The Rose Bush
by ladymouse25
Summary: A cross between Cinderella and Beauty and the Beast. Clarabell has lost her father and works as a maid for her Stepfamily. One day she is sold to the town's most notorious and cruel man.
1. Chapter 1

The Rose Garden

by: ladymouse25

"Clara! Clarabell!" A deep voice boomed throughout the small courtyard that apart from the chattering birds in the dense display of vivacious blooming flowers seemed to be otherwise deserted. "Come out, come out wherever you are..."

Seeming unbeknownst to the tall, dark haired man delicately combing through bushes and peering up into trees, a small child crouched behind a blossoming blood red rose bush. Her twin honey brown eyes twinkling with mischief as she peeked out between the tangled mass of branches. Her hands were tightly pressed over her lips as she fought to keep the gleeful giggles silent.

"Clara...I have a surprise for you..." The man taunted the child as he looked around yet another bush. "I guess I'll just have to give it to some other little girl..." Sighing defeatedly the man straightened gave a last rather dejected look around the courtyard and took just a single step back towards the house.

"Papa! Papa, wait!" Squealing the girl shot up and took off around her hiding spot after the tall, now grinning man. Then suddenly and quite viciously the rose bush lashed out and stopped the little girl dead in her tracks with a cry of pain.

"Clara," The grin slipped from the man's lips replaced now a gentle, slightly exasperated smile. "What have I told you about playing near the rose bushes?" He walked over to her and ever so gently dettached the thorns from the sleeve of the little girls dress.

"I hate these stupid bushes, Papa! Why do we even have them! They hurt so much!" Tears slipped down her rounded cheeks as she looked over to where her father's roughened careful hands pulled the branch away. Sucking in her bottom lip she carefully pushed her sleeve up to reveal a thin cut. "I'm bleeding, Papa! Papa, I'm bleeding!" The hysterics were slowly working their way into her voice as her little face started to fall into full out sobs.

"Clarabell, hush...there's nothing to get so worked up about. It's just a small cut." But despite the calm way he soothed the child, the man picked the little girl up, holding her tenderly against him as she buried her tearstained face into the crook of his neck. "The rose is such a delicate flower, my sweet, it needs to protect itself some how from being trampled."

"But, Pa-pa-papa, wh-why? There are so-so many flow-flowers!" Clara inhaled a shuddering calming breath but didn't lift her face from his neck.

"You know why, my sweet." The man started to walk back to the path and over to a small stone bench to sit. "Your mother planted those roses. First the ones by the door when we were married and then the one you just sprinted out behind when she found out we were going to have you." He ran a hand gently through the little girl's hair. "Not everyone can grow roses here, little Clarabell. It takes a skilled gardener to get them to grow. They are special. We can't just take them out."

A long and dramatic sigh was exhaled from the little girl's body before she pulled, straightening up to get a better look at her father. "Mama, loved roses, didn't she?" Sad light brown eyes stared at her father as she sniffed and wiped a small, dirty hand across her eyes.

A small, dim smile turned up the corners of the mans lips at the thought of his late beloved wife. "Yes, my sweet, she did. The roses were her favorite. She even wanted to name you Rose." Playfully the man pinched the little girls nose.

Giggling she swatted away her father's hands. "Rose? Why didn't she, Papa?"

"Because the moment she saw you, she realized you were far more beautiful than any rose and that you deserved your own name."

"I miss her, Papa." Clarabell sighed again, looking away from her father and resignedly at the rose bush. "I guess they can stay...if Mama loved them," she heaved another heavy sigh and looked back at her father, "I guess so can I."

"That's very grown up of you, little Clarabell." The man looked at his young daughter, barely more than six years old, seeing, not for the first time, how much his darling child needed her mother. "Come, Clara, I brought you something from my last adventure." Standing he carried a now wide-eyed giggling girl back inside the house.

* * *

"Clara!" The piercing, high pitched screech reverberated throughout the same tiny courtyard, instantly terrifying a small flock of sparrows from their perch in the trees. "Clarabell, what are you doing out here! Your chores are waiting for you! Get inside!"

A young child no longer, the girl was now thirteen years old and starting to blossom into a young woman. The dirt stains still marred her dress, but instead of hiding behind bushes, she was now tending to them. "Yes, Stepmother, I'm coming." With that same old heavy sigh that made it sound as if the weight of the world was upon her shoulders, the girl straightened up from her knees, leaving the shears she had been using to prune the rose bush.

"I don't know why you insist on dirtying yourself by caring for those dreadful bushes. Honestly, one of these days we should just take them out. They are far more trouble than they are worth." The disgust was clear in the older woman's voice as she stared not only at the bush, but at Clara.

The shock was clearly written on the girl's face as she desperately shook her head and started towards her stepmother. "Oh no! Please! They were my mother's! I'll make sure to care for them after chores from now on, please! Please, leave them!" Deperate, pleading eyes searched a rather now smug woman's.

"Mm, I don't know," Piercing blue eyes looked down a crooked nose at the begging girl, the brightness on her face clearly betraying on how she enjoyed being able to rule this over the other girl.

"The roses are staying, my sweet. Don't fret." A tired albeit definite sound of a man's voice caused both Clara and her Stepmother to turn quickly at the sound. But where as Clara lit up and ran towards him, her stepmother looked a little less enthusiastic and was slower to meet her husband.

"Papa! You're back!" Clara collided in a tight hug with the man sending his usually firm stance back a step.

"What did you bring us, Stepfather!" Two girls, one slightly older and one slightly younger than Clara rushed out of the house, past their Stepmother and eagerly stopped before the man.

"How was the shipment, Charles?" Now before him, Clara's stepmother placed a rather cool, quick kiss on the man's cheek.

The man had a soft, warm, tired smile aimed at his daughter as he ran a hand comfortingly through the girl's hair before glancing up at his stepdaughters, the smile fading until it was completely gone as he regarded his wife. "I'm afraid, I bear no presents this time, girls." He didn't look at the girls but rather at his wife. His honey brown eyes gently searching that of his wife's, there was a sadness in them, one he was trying to convey to his wife, but hoping his daughters would miss the message. "Why don't you girls go get ready for dinner while I-"

"Where is the shipment, Charles." The Stepmother didn't care what the girls heard. Her husband never failed in bringing home toys for the children when he met his ships returning to the docks.

Sighing, his eyes fell from his wife to his daughter still resting her head happily against his chest then to the other two girls who looked more than disappointed they weren't getting a new toy and back to his wife with her critical eyes. "Gone." The single word practically got caught in his throat. "The ship..." The hopelessness in his voice and eyes aged the otherwise middle aged man at least twenty years and betrayed how little sleep he had received in the past few nights, if any. "...I've called in favors, but...tonight we'll talk about what we need to do..."

"Gone." Nodding the venom with which the woman shot back the word at him could not be missed. She had visibly tensed and her lips were a thin white line. "And now what are we supposed to do, Charles, hm? First you sell the other ships. Now our only one is, what? At the bottom of the ocean? And what is your plan, dearest husband?" The woman practically spit out the endearment and though the question was rhetorical she paused, her eyes narrowing into a glare. "Sell what little possessions we have? And how long will that last? You better have a better plan than that, you idiot." Shaking her head she whipped around and started heading to the house. "Eliza. Olive. We need to finish your lessons. Clara, you have chores." The two girls gave a last bitterly disappointed look at their stepfather before scampering off after their mother.

Once again a sigh left the man's lips as he hung his head. He was a failure. He had married for his wife's dowry and to provide a mother and family for his daughter. He had sold the ships when his wife's dowry wasn't enough to keep up with her lifestyle and now...

"Papa...we'll be okay...won't we?" Clara's earnest, worried eyes searched her father's.

"Yes, my sweet. We'll be okay..." A small smile returned to his lips as he looked down at his daughter, wishing he could have given her a better life and wondering if they may have been better alone after all. "I'm afraid you are going to have to help your stepmother more than ever now. I'll have to...fire...the servants and, probably, be gone more often trying to find work..."

None of what he said seemed to bother Clara in the slightest, she was used to the many chores she had while her stepsisters barely had any. And while she would miss the kind servants, it seemed a small price considering the circumstances. Clarabell had always been bright. Had she the same lessons as her stepsisters she undoubtably would have out far outshone them both. But there was one word that sparked an outraged cry from the girl. "Gone? But, Papa! You just got back! Please, don't go! I miss you so much!" Tightening her told even more, she clung to her father, burying her face back in the fabric of his clothing and inhaling the deep scent.

"Clara...my sweet girl...I need to find work if we are to keep living here and off the streets." Pulling back slightly, he hooked a finger under the girl's chin and turned up her miserable looking little face. "Oh, don't look like that, my sweet. I will be home often enough. And you will have enough keeping you busy here not to miss me." Part of him didn't even want to think how much his wife would throw on his darling little girl, but then, what could he do? It was a woman's job to run the home. "Come now, Clara, let's go see what your sisters are up and see if we can cheer up your stepmother."


	2. Chapter 2

((I know these first couple chapters have been a little slow, I needed to get the back story out of the way, chapter 3 will be better and one of my favorites :) ))

The days turned into weeks and weeks into months, but finally, finally, Charles pulled his very last favor and found a job that kept him away from his family for days at a time, but at least it was a living. His wife, still bitter about everything, was still not happy however and took it out on his daughter whenever Charles wasn't home. She loaded the girl with every chore she could, the servants still were not rehired nor would be, and took to striking out verbally at the child if she did even the slightest thing wrong.

Clara withstood it. She knew well that the lifestyle her stepmother was being subjected to was not one that she was used to, a point that her stepfather brought up every time he came home and saw how hard his daughter worked. So, she pitied the woman and went about what was thrown at her without complaining.

And then barely a year later the unimaginable happened. An accident at work left Charles at the brink of death, crippled in bed. In his last moments on Earth he apologized to his wife for the decisions he had made, but she did not forgive him, instead left the room, disgusted. He told his stepdaughters that he thought of them as his own and had loved them since they came into his life, but they merely looked bored by all of it and left to play with their dolls. At last he looked at his darling daughter and a shadow of smile that he could muster came over his face.

"You...look like your...mother more...each day, my sweet." With tears coursing down her cheeks Clara clung to her fathers hand and begged him not to leave her. "Your mother and I...will be waiting, sweet...take care of...the roses. Mind, Eleanor." Clara's stepmother. "She's family...Clarabell...I'm sorry...I love you..." Clara stayed with her father until the last breath left his body and even then she had to be forcefully pulled from the room.

* * *

"Why you ungrateful little chit!"The sound of a hand colliding with skin sliced through the otherwise dead silent kitchen. "Wasting food when we have so little! I should just throw you out without a penny to your name!"

Clara stood in a ragged maid's uniform, her eyes downcast, her cheek starting to turn a nasty shade of red. She was eighteen now. No longer a girl, but a beautiful young woman underneath the dark circles under eyes, and the grime beneath her fingernails.

"Get out of my sight, you little wretch!" Her Stepmother turned away from the girl as Clara silently left the kitchen. It wasn't the first time she had been struck and certainly not the last. She was a constant disappointment to the woman, but that was hardly anything new either. In the months and years since her father's death Clara had become the soul servant in the household. She no longer had any lessons nor any responsibilities aside from carrying out every whim her Stepmother had. It was repayment for being able to live in the house still.

Occasionally Eleanor would go through a rather curious phase of repent and while she would still order Clara around, she would also give the girl a few measley coppers as repayment. But that was rare and hardly made up for all that Clarabell did. Still, Clara never complained, never raised her voice. She knew to be grateful to have a home. She knew how those on the streets lived and how dangerous it was for a woman to be alone. It had been made painfully clear to her shortly after her father died by her Stepmother and by the frequent trips that she made into town to shop.

Clara walked down the hall, trying to brush off the sinking feeling she sad after her latest mistake. Despite it all she couldn't help blame herself for the way her Stepmother acted. If she had only been paying more attention instead of daydreaming again... She frustratingly pushed a stray strand of brown hair out of her face and back behind her ear.

"Oh, Clara! My pearl necklace broke again! Fix it before tomorrow." Olive's nasally voice carried out of the drawing room as Clara passed.

"Of course, miss." Clarabell barely hesitated, just kept walking until she found herself out in the courtyard. The rainbow of flowers had mostly been replanted by a blanket of white ones, but the roses, oh the roses, were still blooming.

Sitting on the weathered stone bench, Clara dropped her head into her hands. "Oh, Papa...what is wrong with me?" Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, she bit onto it, willing herself not to cry. Not to give her Stepmother that satisfaction. Taking a few deep breaths, she eventually calmed herself enough to lift her head, those same honey brown eyes immediately going to the blood red rose bush.

Standing she walked to them, her shoes catching when she was only mere steps away and sending the girl sprawling and her black, ragged dress snagging onto the push. "Oh!" The thorns tore into the fabric and scraped against her skin. Again not the first time the bush had assaulted her. Once again fighting back the tears, Clarabell pushed herself up off the dirt and began to carefully untangle herself. "Can't I do anything right today?" Standing she studied the damage and was dismayed to realize she was going to have to fix the dress after the pearls tonight. The small cuts stung, but no worse than her cheek. "Oh, no! No, no, no, no!" Just then she spotted her shoe. Both were worn and threadbare, but now there was a gaping hole from the rock she had tripped on. There would be no repairing them after that. "No!"

Kicking the dirt she flung the shoe away from her before turning towards the bush. A chipper bud poked out from the mess of dangerous branches as if to taunt her. Angry, frustrated, and overwhelmed she reached out and roughly pulled the bud off the bush, crushing it in her hand. She could feel tell delicate soft petals brushing against her skin and almost immediately her anger faded away and she regretted her harsh treatment of the poor flower.

"Oh...Oh, I'm so sorry, little rose. That was unfair." Uncurling her fingers she stared at the now misshaped, hapless looking bud.

"We need to get rid of those bushes." The sudden shrill voice startled Clarabell from her own self-pity. "They're nothing but trouble."

"What? No!" Clara whirled around, protectively hiding the bud in her hand.

"They seem to keep you from doing your chores." A cool smirk spread across her stepmother's lips. What the woman wouldn't give to simply tear them out here and now.

"I'm sorry! I-I'll do better!" The roses where the only thing Clara had. If they were gone...

"Yes, I suppose you will. Now get inside. You have to restart dinner."

Ducking her head, she nodded quickly and started off with a quick look back at the bush only to hesitate once more in the doorway to the house. "Stepmother...have you or the girls...what I mean to say is...are there any extra shoes that aren't going to market?"

"Shoes?" Those endless, dangerous blue eyes snapped to Clara before looking down her crooked nose at the girls feel and made a disapproving noise. "No. We have no _extra_ shoes. You need to spend your wages just like any other servant."

Clara's face fell and she silently nodded before heading back inside. Of course she would. She had expected such an answer but still...she wasn't sure if she'd be able to get any shoes for what little she had.


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh, Clara, you must bring back some sweets." Eliza was the last person who needed more sweets, but Clara submissively nodded.

"And ink. We need more ink, Clara." This was Olive's input. The girl was as clumsy as a troll. Constantly knocking her ink jar over during her studies.

"Berries, Clara. I have a taste for a pie tonight." Stepmother aimed a mocking smile at her stepdaughter knowing full well how expensive berries well and how much change was in the pouch she had given the girl to buy the necessities for the week.

Nodding her head obediently Clarabell pulled the hood of her thin cloak up over her head. It would do little good in keeping her warm, but a little was better than nothing. There were two shoes on her feet, but one had a scrap piece of cloth wrapped around it, a pathetic attempt to mend the damage. She would see what shoes there were in the market today, but she didn't have much hopes.

She could barely get out of the door fast enough and she was barely out of sight of the house before all of the breath left her body and she relaxed in a way she could never at home. This was her absolute favorite part of the week. Going to the market. She loved it. Loved the people, the noise, the smells, the wares...and, of course, being away from her stepmother and stepsisters.

The walk was a rather long one which normally hardly phased her, but the fabric keeping the shoe on her foot and covering up the hold did little to protect her feet from the hard stones digging into her feet. But shoes were the last thing on her mind. She needed to get the necessities for the house first and maybe, just maybe haggle enough to add a few more saved coppers to her own. Stepmother would never know what she paid. Then again she'd probably have to use some of her own to buy the berries. Exactly what her Stepmother would have wanted.

Sighing Clara tried to ignore the ache in her feet and focus on trying to feel excited for the day.

* * *

"Clara!"

"Thom!" Grinning Clarabell practically skipped to the stall of her favorite person in the entire marketplace. Thom was the baker and sold some of the best pastries Clara had ever tasted. "How are you? Did your wife have the baby?"

"Not yet." The young, dark haired man grinned and handed change to another customer before turning his attention to his friend. "Any day now though, I expect. My wife wanted me to ask you if you could bring a rose next week. She said it'll bring the baby good luck."

"Of course! I should have thought to bring it today. I can't wait to meet the little one! It seems like we've been waiting forever!" The bright sunshine smile on Clarabell's lips erased away any toll her days working for her Stepmother seemed to take. For once despite the hapless clothes and lifeless brown hair, she looked and radiated a beauty that was unmatched.

"Tell me about it." Aiming an exasperated look at Clara, Thom ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "Now what is it I can help you with? Bread? Pastries?"

"Just bread today. Thom..." Clara looked away slightly embarrassed and unsure how to say what she wanted to.

"Big list today?" His eyes softened as he looked at her. He knew well enough how she was treated, he wasn't an idiot. And despite how many times he offered Clara to come live with him and his wife, she refused. If nothing else he knew the girl was loyal to keeping her word to her dying father of taking care of her Stepmother despite the cost to herself.

"She wants berries." She said softly, still unable to meet Thom's gaze. She hated asking for favors, but she needed shoes. She couldn't leave the marketplace today without them. "And..." Her gaze feel down to her feet. Thom's followed.

"Clarabell! We have-"

"No!" Her voice was firm as she finally met her friend's eyes. "I can buy what I need. I hate asking for favors and I am very capable of taking care of our needs. If you can afford to sell me two loaves for a few coppers less I would be grateful and next week I can bring you some carvings as repayment or I can pay you what is due."

"Clara..." Thom's voice was soft and chastising. "You know I will sell you the loaves for less, you don't need to repay me."

"I won't take handouts, Thom. There are plenty of people on these streets that need your handouts more than me..." Clara stood straight and tell, determined and looking nothing like the shadow of a girl that walked aimless at home.

Thom sighed softly and turned to get the bread. Handing it to her, he named the lowest price he knew Clara would accept. "You know you always have a place with us, Clara, even if we have twenty children..."

"I know, Thom. Thank you..." A smile turned up the corners of her lips as she placed the bread in her basket before reaching over and squeezing his arm gently before turning away and heading to the next place on her list.

* * *

"10 silvers."

"5."

"10 silvers! 5 is robbery!"

"10 silvers is robbery! And an insult! I know how much these are worth. 5 is being generous." A hooded and cloaked man stood at a vender selling shoes and clothing, holding a pair of finely crafted shoes. He had a dark scarf covering his face so that the only thing a person could see where a pair of bright emerald eyes. Judging by the quality of clothes money was something that this man had and 10 silvers was nothing.

The old woman shook her head, stubborn despite of a possible sale. "No. 10 is fair. 5 is the insult. I know you. I won't be mowed over by you, sir. Not like everyone else."

"Oh my." Both the man and old woman glanced up as a slight young woman wandered up to the stall, her eyes locked on a pair of dainty gold embroidered shoes. "These are beautiful..." Her soft voice was in an awe as she stared at the shoes, but it was clear to both of them that this woman was in no position to ever pay even half of what they were really worth. The girl was practically dressed in rags!

"Hand embroidered from France. They are the only ones of their kind. See the tiny roses?" A self-satisfied smirk spread across the old woman's lips as she moved over to the girl and the other shoes. "Feel how soft the silk it." Taking one of the shoes the woman held it out to the rather startled girl. Clearly the girl had not been expecting being able to touch something so fine. Usually those who were so clearly not in a position to buy something were not allowed to touch. It was surprising this old woman would trust the girl.

"Oh..." Clara set her basket down and started to reach out to touch the shoe but stopped. Her hands were so dirty. She couldn't possibly touch something so beautiful without ruining it. "I shouldn't. I don't want to get them dirty. But they are beautiful." Dropping her hands back down she smiled in a friendly way. "How much are they?" The girl didn't think she'd be able to afford such a thing did she? Hah! What a foolish, foolish thing.

Setting the shoe down the old woman barely blinked. "50 silver."

"50!" But it wasn't the girl's voice that was outraged, but his own...again. "You are out to rob the world blind, old woman!"

The girl looked over at him for the first time. Her soft liquid amber colored eyes seemed to study him for a moment before she shrugged her shoulders. "I think it's a fair price."

Scoffing he shook his head in disbelief. The girl was an idiot. "Do you?" He mocked before laughing without any humor lacing the sound. "You probably would. What would you know about such fine things."

The hurt in the girl's eyes pierced him in a way he hadn't expected, but it was only there a moment before she seemed to gather herself up and stand a little taller. "More than you would think. Have you ever manipulated a needle, sir? Take a closer look at this stitching if you have." She waved the same dirtied hand at the shoes. "You can barely even see the individual stitches. It was a highly talented woman who stitched these. She has spent her life perfecting this craft. The money that went into that education and into the supplies for these shoes let alone the time..." The girl shook her head. "50 silvers doesn't just go to this kind woman, sir. It goes to the lady who made these." Nothing in the girl's tone was condescending in the slightest. Instead she spoke in a soft, gentle tone, much as one would to an innocent child. "I wish I could stitch as she..."

"Yes, then you too could sell your wares far beyond their worth and rob the rest of us blind." But his voice wasn't quite as harsh as before.

"Yes, well, wouldn't you, sir? Or would you be a generous soul and sell them fairly?" A small smile worked its way onto the girl's lips as she regarded him, staring at him as if she knew him inside and out. She didn't give him time to respond before the smile was gone and she seemed to remember herself. "Forgive me, sir. I didn't mean to interrupt." Ducking her head she glanced more time at the old woman and hesitated a moment. "You don't have any shoes under 25 coppers do you?"

25 coppers! That's all the girl had? The girl could barely buy a rock for 25 coppers let alone anything else!

"No, dear, I'm sorry we don't." The woman offered her a kind smile.

"I didn't think so. Thank you." She glanced back at him and hesitated once again. "Those shoes you like...why not buy them for 7?" She glanced at the woman and back up at him before leaving.

7! Hah! The girl thought she was clever. The woman wouldn't take 5, she wasn't going to take two- "7 seems fair. What do you say, sir?" The man tore his gaze away from the girl's retreating form and looked at the old woman.

* * *

Clarabell couldn't believe herself. Telling them both to settle at 7 silvers. It was none of her business. And the man had been right, she didn't know a single thing about selling shoes. She was such an idiot. But she couldn't help it. She hated the way he had looked at her, like she was worthless...like she knew nothing. Many around town looked at her this way, but it bothered her coming from him for some reason.

Taking a deep breath, she willed herself not to think about it any longer and stepped up to the fruit vendor. Berries. This was going to be a tough one.

"I'm sorry, Clara, I can't sell you that basket for less than 12 coppers. It cost me 7 just to get them." The middle aged man's voice was hushed as he spoke to the girl, not wanting others to hear he was willing to sell the berries to the girl for less than half of what he was advertising them for. But unbeknownst to both of them someone was in the shadows listening to all of it.

"But I can-"

"I'm sorry, Clara. We need the money. I can barely afford putting food on my own table. Your carvings are wonderful, but I can't wait a week for the money they may bring." Clara couldn't blame him for being unable to drop the price further. She nodded slowly her mind whirling as she tried to decide what to do. Even using her own money she wouldn't be able to buy everything they needed. And if she bought the berries she couldn't buy the ink and sweets the girls wanted...but if she didn't have the berries...

"I can help." Clarabell jumped at the sound of a voice behind her. The man from the shoe stall. She stared at him stunned that he was there and trying to help her. But as soon as he tried reaching out a glove covered hand to give the money over to pay for the berries she shook her head.

"No! No, no! Please. I'm grateful. Very grateful for your help, but I am capable of taking care of this. I don't need handouts. There are others. Please." Shaking her head emphatically, she placed a hand on the sleeve of his arm, her light eyes pleading with his.

"Capable? Really? Help seems to be exactly what you need." He was somewhat irked that the girl wouldn't accept his charity. He never handed out his money or help to anyone and judging by the look the fruit seller was aiming his way, his reputation proceeded him at least to one person before him.

"No, please. I really am grateful that you would offer, but I can take care of this." Clara turned to the seller who raised his eyebrows at her. What could she say? Did she want the berries? Yes. She needed them...she didn't want to think about what would happen if Stepmother didn't get her pie... "The rotten ones."

"What?" Both the man and the fruit seller stared at her, trying to comprehend what she just said.

"The rotten baskets. Surely there are still some good pieces of fruit in them. No one is going to buy those, surely you could lower the price a bit more on those." She searched the eyes of the seller willing him to drop the price, unable to glance back at the man. He thought her a lowly urchin before, who knew what he was thinking now that she wanted to buy rotten fruit.

"Well, I suppose...they were just going to be thrown out anyway...I can just give them-"

"No. 5 coppers for a basket?" Clara could feel the man's gaze burning into the back of her head.

"Clara-" The fruit seller started to refuse, but she knew it was because he didn't want to make her pay.

"I can do 7 coppers. That way at least you make out even." She dug into her purse pulling the money out.

"5 is more than enough-" But he stopped as she sent him a hard look. Clara was stubborn when she was haggling, every vendor that knew her knew that.

"You need the money. Here." Handing the money to him, she refused to take two coppers back. She could do seven. If she had to dip into her money to buy the ink and sweets it wouldn't be more than a couple coppers.

Shaking his head, the fruit vendor went through the baskets picking out the best of the worst. Most of what he gave her had minimal bruising, but most wouldn't go through the trouble of cutting that off. Taking the fruit she set in her basket and turned away, ignoring the look of the man in the cloak. Really. Hadn't she humiliated herself enough in front of him? She couldn't look at him.

"Wait. You really couldn't accept a few coppers to get a perfect basket?" He sounded incredulous as he fell into step beside her.

"No. I couldn't." Lifting her chin she glanced at the stalls they passed.

"Why not?" His tone was demanding and somewhat harsh. What must he think of her?

"There are others that need those few coppers more than I do, sir." She paused to glance at a booth of vegetables, but she had already gotten what they needed. Still she needed something to pretend to focus on. Maybe she'd bore him. Seeing nothing, she moved on to the sweets stall.

"That's funny considering you just bought the most expensive food being sold on this side of the market. How many people could you have helped instead of buying delicacies?" He didn't know what made him say it, why he was being so harsh, but it was his nature and everyone knew that.

She didn't even look at him, but her shoulders caved in just a little bit and he was rewarded once again by that same mysterious stabbing feeling. "Case, I need three of the lemon, two cinnamon, and two mint, and surprise her with the other three." The short man nodded but she didn't miss the curious glance he shot her after looking up at the man.

"My Stepmother wants a berry pie after dinner tonight. I wouldn't have bought them if I had a choice." Opening her money pouch she pulled out three coppers.

"5 coppers." Case had come back with a small bag of the candies.

"5! 5 coppers, now?" Clara stared at the man in shock. Just last week he had upped it to three. Now, 5?

"It's hard times lately, Clara. I'm sorry. I know-" Case stopped and glanced at the man, trying to decide how much he should say. "-your...situation. I can't come down any further as much as I would like..."

Clarabell bit her and closed her eyes momentarily. That would mean the ink price went up as well. Sighing softly she heard the man starting to jingle in his own change purse. "I can only give you three, Case. Take out...what you need to." Case shot her a deeply sympathetic look and turned to take out four candies. "Is there one she would not miss?"

"She'll be missing four candies, Case." Clara puffed out a short, tired laugh. "It doesn't matter, she won't be happy with any combination other than the original." Sighing softly she moved the coins around in her hand. What would shoes be like then? Maybe she shouldn't bother even to try.

"I put one extra in there, Clara." Case handed her the bag and took her money. "Is there anything else you need? How about a licorice? No one seems to want them these days..."

Clara grinned broadly. "How can I say no to licorice?" Happy to see the girl smiling he was quick to grab another bag and put a few ropes in for her. "And you, sir?"

The man shook his head and turned with Clara as they left the stall. "Is there a reason why you can't tell whoever this stuff is for that they need to give you more money? Or create a cheaper list?"

Reaching into the licorice bag Clara tore off a piece and offered the other half to the man who took it. "No, sir. This is the money we have for the week. There is no more to use." Pausing again as they passed a boy with a stringed instrument in his, she looked up at him with another one of those gentle, patient smiles. "I do as I'm told with the list I receive." Turning back to the boy, a bright grin lit up her face as she stepped towards. The moment the boy saw her he jumped up and clung to her in a hug. The child couldn't be more than seven and looked as if he spent his nights on the streets.

"Clara! I didn't think I'd see you today." He grinned up at her, hardly noticing the man watching.

"It took me longer to get up this way. Everything is so expensive, Charlie." She tenderly ruffled the boys hair. "So, are you still helping the blacksmith?"

The boys face fell and he shook his head, suddenly looking everywhere but at her. "I'm too clumsy..."

"Oh, Charlie..." Clara knelt down and the man noticed for the first time that there was a scrap of fabric tied around her shoe. "You are not clumsy. We'll have to find somewhere else, huh? Where have you been staying?" The boy still wouldn't look at her. "I see...do you know Thom the baker? Go to him. Tell him I sent you. His wife is about to have a baby and they will need all the help they can get. Charlie, now look at me." She lightly caught his chin under her finger. "You are a smart boy, but you mustn't become lazy...do you hear me? Do as your told and you shouldn't have a problem." The boy nodded sullenly, clearly defeated by his latest failure. "I brought you something."

The boy lit up and grinned again at the girl. "Did you? What did you bring me? One of your carvings? I love playing with them."

Clara shook her head and handed him the small bag of licorice.

"Candy! Oh, Miss Clara! Really? I can have all of it? Thank you!" The boy could barely contain his excitement as he bit into one of the ropes.

"Go see Thom, Charlie." Grinning Clara ruffled his hair one more time before waving goodbye. As she passed the man, she glanced up at him and into those depthless green eyes. Why he covered himself so completely besides those eyes she didn't know. "He deserves it," She paused by him and glanced back at Charlie. "If you still have those extra coppers in your purse...Charlie could use it more than I..." She hesitated a moment longer before walking on.

"What kind of a trick are you," the man's voice made her hesitate longer and she turned back to him with a somewhat confused expression playing on her face. "You put on this show of being an overly kind, helpless girl...why? To haggle down everything you want to buy? Is that your game? To trick the market into feeling sorry for you."

What was it with this man? Why was he so cruel? So accusing? What had she done to him? Was this all because she hadn't agreed the shoes were overpriced? "Because it's the right thing to do. People take care of each other down here. And you, sir? What game are you playing? You've been following me this whole time, to what end? To help me? To mock me?" Her voice took on a slightly exasperated tone as if she were a mother worn out from a day of questions. She looked away briefly before shaking her head. "Forgive me. We all do what we can to help those less fortunate than ourselves. You are more than welcome to follow me and glimpse that world if that is your wish." It wasn't said in any more of a rude way than anything else she had said. She kept that same calm tone as if he were still the child younger than Charlie, tugging at her skirts and questioning the world.

Clara made off towards the other vendors, without looking back.


	4. Chapter 4

The man didn't know how to respond to her. Under normal circumstances he would never have believed her. No one was that kind to others. But there was something different about her. He was drawn to her for reasons he couldn't explain which was why he was following her.

Looking over to the boy he found the child staring right back at him. Normally he never acknowledged the beggars and the poor, but seeing the too thin child, clutching his bag of sweets after being somewhat chided by...what? She was practically a beggar herself. Still. The man who kept a firm grip on his large purse found himself moving to the child and dropping a few silvers into the child's lap.

Startled the boy jumped up, holding the few pieces as if they were pure gold. Stunned, he looked from the coins and back up to the man. "Thank you, sir! Thank you so much!" Holding the coins to his chest, the boy suddenly tilted his head to the side as he stared at the man. "You're that-that man they talk about aren't you?"

"What man?" He raised an eyebrow at the child, but he knew perfectly well what they said about him.

"They say you're cruel, heartless even. You won't buy anything without fighting down the price. They say you've beaten beggars and-and killed people. Is that true?" The child's earnest eyes were almost frightened as he remembered all the things he had heard. "They say you're ugly too, that's why you wear all that. That you're a-a..."

"A monster?" A smirk crossed his lips as he stared at the child.

"Yeah...you can't be those things...can you? I don't think so... You're kind. You gave me these." The boy held out the coins before his eyes went to the crowd trying to find Clara. "And Clara wouldn't be friends with someone so mean..." He searched the man's face as if looking for confirmation that such things he heard weren't true.

"Like you said I gave you the coins. Spend them well." Turning the man searched through the crowd for the girl. Finally finding her moving away from a vender with a new package in her basket. Damn. He'd missed that one. Working his way through the crowd he fell into step beside her right as she stopped by another shoe vendor.

"Oh, these are beautiful." Leaning in she studied a rose colored pair of slippers before noticing the man was back. Rats. She thought she had lost him. Of course not. "Look," reaching out she was just about to grab one shoe when- WHACK, the seller appeared and slammed his hand down on hers.

"Oh no you don't! We don't serve the likes of you here." The venom seething out of every word the seller spoke was aimed directly at Clara. Obviously not seeing the man come up beside her, every muscle in his body tense, his eyes dark and treacherous.

"How dare you..." The ire in the man's voice was unmistakeable and for the first time the seller looked up at him, startled.

Pulling back she refused to let the seller, or anyone for that matter, see how much her hand stung and how his cruel words affected her. "No." Clara rested a gentle hand on the man's arm. "This man has very fine wares. He does want to waste his time on those who can not purchase his wares. Come on. We'll find somewhere else." Turning her back to the seller who looked ready to beg apologizes now seeing the man and judging his fine clothing, Clarabell just wanted to get away. It was one thing after another and this man, whose name she didn't even know!, was witness to all of it. Every humiliating second.

"Why did you just walk away?" The man was stalking after her, still worked up and barely under control. "He had no right-"

"Please, sir. This is how the market works. It happens all the time. Please. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but..." Clara looked at him, searching his gaze for understanding before defeatedly shrugging. "This is how it works here. With us. They have their reasons. I could easily have been a thief. He doesn't know me. I wasn't thinking."

"He hit you." Was she really taking this so calmly? He was about reading to tear the man's head off for her! "There is no reason-"

"What would you have done? Seeing me as I am. Don't tell me you didn't judge me the moment you saw me. You just accused me of being a trickster." Shaking her head, she sighed and turned back around. "Come on. I have one more stop. And what's your name? If you insist on being my shadow I should at least know that."

His temper was barely abated, but what could he do? She had asked him to leave it be and he found himself fighting to soothe his quick temper. But rest assured he would remember the man. "Grayson."

"I'm Clarabell...Clara." She flashed him a pretty little smile before nodding her head to a stall with piles and piles and piles of shoes. "Come on."

"Clarabell!" The elderly man had a wide, toothless grin as she approached before his gaze shifted to her companion and his grin faltered. "Are you okay, dear?"

"Of course! Tell me, John. What shoes do you have for 20 coppers?" Biting her lip her bright eyes glanced around at the mound of shoes before looking back at the man.

"20? Oh my, well let's see...not as great of choices as last week I'm afraid..." He began rummaging through the piles before coming back with a few hapless, mis-shapen looking shoes. "These are the best I have. Sorry, Clara, they aren't much."

Worrying her lips, Clara picked up each of the pairs and critically looked them over. All of them looked as if they would be worn right through after just a couple steps. The man could hardly believe what he was seeing and that the girl was actually considering buying such a pair. But then for 20 coppers he hardly believed she could even purchase anything at all for that.

"These will do." Picking out the best of the worst, the hopeless looking black shoes were dropped to the ground and she slid her feet out of the ones she wore and into the new ones. "Oh they fit! Perfect! I'll probably stuff the toes a bit, but they are far better than the ones I've had before." Bending down she picked up her old shoes, the scrap of fabric still tied around the shoe. "Here, you can put these out." She handed him the shoes, followed by the last of her money.

"Thank you, Clara. I think I know just the person who'd like these." The old man smiled again and glanced up at the man, his expression becoming a bit more wary. "I dare say I don't have much that would interest you, sir, but you are welcome to look."

Grayson shook his head and followed Clara away from the stall. "Why did you leave your old shoes with him? Wouldn't they have been better off burned? Who would wear those?"

Clara was staring at the new shoes, admiring them as if they were the dainty gold ones she had first looked at. "Someone can use almost anything. Those shoes will go to someone who has none and would be happy with even just a scrap of fabric to tie around their feet." Tearing her gaze away from her purchase and looking up at him, she tilted her head slightly to the side. "May I ask you something?"

Grayson couldn't couldn't figure her out. Couldn't understand her world and how she remained so happy and kind when everything around her was so miserable. "What?"

She seemed to hesitate as if not quite sure how to word what she wanted to say. "Why have you been following me?"

That was a good question and one he didn't really have an answer to nor really wanted to think about. There was something about her that attracted him. Maybe because unlike the other poor he saw and dealt with, she didn't want anything given to her. She was determined to pay for whatever she needed and take nothing from anyone. Maybe it was because of the gentle way she treated everyone she talked to. Even those who were blatantly rude towards her. Maybe it was because of the way those soft, pretty smiles illuminated her face transforming the plain little thing into something beautiful...maybe he had just lost his mind. "Because I find it...interesting."

Clara stared at him a moment unsure how to take that answer. Interesting. Was that what she was to him? Some kind of entertainment? "I...see." Nodding she looked away feeling somewhat awkward standing there before him in her rags and somewhat taken advantage of. "I should...head home. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Grayson." Turning she walked away from him. She didn't understand him. Didn't understand really what had just happened, but she also couldn't focus on it. She needed to get home, finish the rest of the chores, start dinner, start the pie. Grayson had been...an interesting distraction, but not someone she was assuming she'd ever see again. And that was just as it should be. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of being some kind of amusement for him.

Grayson watched her walk away unsure of what had just happened. Whatever it was, he was sure he wanted to see her again. Figure her out. And judging by the number of vendors that seemed to know her well, it wouldn't be that hard to find out a lot about her before he even saw her again.

* * *

True to Clara's prediction Eliza caused a fuss about having a few less candies, but luckily enough that was the only problem. She was able to clean off enough berries to bake her stepmother's berry pie and her new shoes fit like a dream. In fact Clarabell had a pretty simple rest of the week. Her stepmother only had a few minor problems with Clara's chores and her stepsisters seemed to be able to keep their gowns and jewelry in one piece. And to top it all off the roses were in full bloom. Which meant she could sell some at the market.

Clara's mood had been so lifted by the good week that by the next shopping week she was almost just as happy at home as she was to leave.

"Paints for the girls art lesson and Mrs. Carter is coming over later this week so pick up a nice blend of tea." Nodding Clarabell took off and practically skipped down the path to the market. Her basket was full of freshly cut flowers and hiding in her apron were delicately carved wooden figures for those she owed them to.

* * *

"Thom! Did she-" The smell of fresh baked bread and sugar pastries was almost overwhelming as Clara bounded over.

"Yes! A girl! Molly. After Sarah's mother." Thom looked tired, but the grin came quickly to his lips.

"Oh, Thom, congratulations! I brought the rose and something for the baby..." Digging into her apron she pulled out a small intricately carved ball attached to a piece of twine. "Papa said I loved to bat at things like this when I was a babe. And look, I put animals all the way around." Handing the toy to Thom she then picked out the prettiest rose. "Tell Sarah, next week I would love to see the babe if she wants visitors!"

"Thank you, Clara, it's perfect! I'll let her know." Thom waved as she turned around and headed towards the center of the market to start selling her roses.

Picking up a few stems she had carefully cut the thorns off of, Clarabell began to call out the prices of her precious flowers, stepping in front of those who looked as if they could be potential customers. She was about to dart in front of one particular well dressed couple, when someone stepped in her way.

"I think I'd like a rose." Clara took a step back in surprise as she looked up at the man covered from head to toe besides his bright green eyes. "Mr. Grayson!"

Clarabell had almost forgotten her encounter with the man the previous week and he was exactly the last person she had ever expected on running into again. But then she should have known. She was his amusement. His toy. Of course he would try to seek her out. Raising her chin just a little bit, she nodded. "5 coppers."

"5? For a flower that's going to die tomorrow?" Gray stared at the slight woman before him as if she had grown a second head.

"No one else sells roses, sir. And these are fresh cut. If you put them in some water with a bit of sugar they'll last for weeks." Clara was determined not to be cowed by him even if she was slightly frightened by him.

"I'll give you 1 copper." Gray started reaching into the small satchel tied to his belt, but Clara shook her head.

"Sorry, sir. I can sell this whole basket at 5 copper a piece. It's fair and all I can take." Clarabell offered him a slightly apologetic smile before turning her back and looking for a potential customer. No one had ever turned their back on him before and he was slightly amazed she had of all people.

"My. And here I thought you would be a push over."

"Being kind and a push over do not go hand in hand. I know what my roses are worth. I know what they would fetch higher up the street where the rich shop. 5 coppers is barely asking anything." She glanced over her shoulder at him. "You know that, sir."

Surprised Gray stared at her a couple heartbeats before he surprised even himself when he let loose a deep laugh. He couldn't remember the last time he had genuinely laugh. What was it about her? No one called him out. No one turned their backs to him. And yet she had done both and simply had succeeded in tickling his funny bone? Unheard of. "You are persistent."

"Sir?" Clara didn't bother to look back at him again. Why was he bothering her again? And why was she letting him get under her skin again? 1 copper! What a joke!

"You are not among the rich, Clara." Clara had a mind of shooting a tart comment back at him, but managed to bite it back. That was something that she rarely had a problem with. She was usually so even tempered and yet here he was goading her. "You'll sell me each of those left over roses for a single copper at the end of the day." It wasn't even a question.

"Will I?" She glanced at him again, her eyebrows raised. "There will be none left, sir. If you really want a rose, you better buy one now for 5." And with that she made quick work towards another couple. He watched as they bought two of her roses and despite himself he hoped she proved him wrong, but he didn't believe she would.

Grayson left her to wander around the marketplace but always kept her in sight, carefully watching as she darted up to people and sold her flowers. It wasn't a success every time, but he was impressed by her none the less. She worked hard to convince people to buy the pretty blossoms and much to Grayon's surprise, more people seemed more than willing to hand over so many coppers for such a useless item.

Shaking his head Gray turned towards a stall and began to negotiate down the price of a couple apples and by the time he had two in his possession Clara was down to one rose.

"This is my last rose for the day, sir, and I'm not sure yet if I'll have another basketful next week. You should get this one for your sweetheart, surely, after given something so beautiful she won't even have to think about her answer..." Clarabell smiled prettily up at a young blonde man while holding out her very last rose. She had never doubted being able to sell her basket and even if this man didn't buy it, she knew well it was only a matter of time before someone else did.

"Actually," Grayson had taken long strides to catch up to her after seeing there was only one flower left. "That rose has already been spoke for..."

Clara's gaze flew to Gray the surprise crystal clear on her face. "I'm afraid, sir, I can take no less than 5 coppers..."

"I'll give you 8." The blonde man reached into his money pouch sending a smug look at Gray.

"I'll give you 10." Grayson couldn't believe what he was doing. The rose wasn't worth 5, but he wasn't about to walk away without one now. And besides, he didn't care for that self-satisfied smirk on that ungrateful man's face.

"15." Crossing his arms, the blonde man sat back on his heels not even glancing at Clara, simply starying straight at Gray, clearly challenging the other man.

Clara's eyes darted back and forth between the two, her lips slightly parted, wanting to intervene, but not knowing how. 15 coppers! For a rose? Even her roses weren't worth that much.

"25." Gray didn't even bat an eye. Money was no object to him.

A muscle twitched in the blonde man's jaw and his arms tensed clearly reaching his limit. "30."

Gray hesitated a moment debating if he wanted to keep going up in coppers or end it here and now. "1 silver." He was getting bored.

The blonde man straightened his arms falling to his sides and his hands balling into fists. "A silver!" He shouted. "You don't belong here! Throwing your money around." He took a step towards Gray jabbing a finger into his chest. "I've heard about you. You're that brat who thinks he can get whatever he pleases."

Clarabell had jumped as the blonde man's voice rose and she stood stock still watching him advance on Gray who had yet to move, but one glance at his eyes told her it wasn't about to end well when he did. "Stop it! The both of you!" Despite having a sinking feeling she took a step closer to the pair and rested a hand on the blonde man's arm. "Please. I've changed my mind. I'm keeping it for myself. I-"

"You!" The blonde man twisted his arm and grabbing onto Clara's, his narrowed eyes locking onto hers. "Is this your gam-" She had caught his other arm moving out of the corner of her eye, but a mere moment later Grayson's back was before her and the blonde man thrown feet away.

"Touch her again..." The threat didn't even have to be finished, his terrifying tone making it perfectly clear the move would be the blonde man's last. As Clarabell tried to make sense of what had just happened she became aware of her shaking and the low rumbling noise was coming from Grayson. Was he...growling? "Get out of here."Gray didn't make it more than a step before the man was up and running.

"Clara!" Glancing up, Clara spotted Thom sprinting over to them. Her wide eyes then looked around her and realized everyone's eyes were on them. On her. She could feel her throat constricting and her breaths becoming quicker. Shaking her head she darted from around Grayson and took off towards the outskirts of town, dropping the rose in the process.

"Clara!" This time it was Grayson calling out to her, but she didn't stop, didn't respond. She needed to leave. Needed to get away from everyone and their eyes.

"What have you done!" Thom's steps had slowed when his friend had taken off, but he purposefully headed towards the man. "What do you want with her?"

"I didn't do anything wrong. I was simply-" Gray had rounded on the baker, but the other didn't back down as most would and did.

"You knew you weren't going to let the other man have that rose and you knew you could out buy him five times over." Thom had half the mind to punch the other man but he could hear the distant wail of his newborn daughter. "You were out to humiliate him...and her. Leave her alone. She doesn't deserve the likes of you." Thom aimed a last nasty look before turning on his heel and taking back off towards his stall and home.

Grayson simply stared. He couldn't gather up enough of his temper to lash back at the baker which was rather peculiar. Instead he felt this rather awful and a new feeling of guilt swelling inside of him. Trying to clear the feeling he shook his head and started off in the direction he had watched Clara run, stopping only briefly to pick up the forgotten, troublesome rose.


	5. Chapter 5

Clara didn't stop running until she stopped seeing people. And when she finally did slow down, there were tears running down her cheeks. She was humiliated. Absolutely and completely humiliated. What was wrong with her? What was wrong with _him?_

Stopping by a tree, she leaned against it and slid down. She could still feel the entire town's eyes on her, searing into her back, judging her. And she could still see the blonde man's hand rising, could feel a phantom sting on her cheek even if he had not struck her. It had been close. Too close.

"Clara..." The masculine voice caused her heart to stop and her breath caught in her throat. Why had he followed her? Why couldn't he just leave her alone!

Bringing her knees up, Clara buried her face in them unable to look at Grayson. No. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her so utterly miserable.

"Clarabell." She heard his voice drop to a whisper and felt him sit beside her. His side pressed against hers, comforting, she supposed, in his own way.

Grayson didn't say anything as he sat down and didn't for a long while. He wasn't sure what to say so instead he twirled the rose in his fingers. He didn't know what made him pick it up, but something so beautiful shouldn't have been left to get trampled. She didn't deserve this. She had been nothing but sweet and kind and he had been nothing but a horse's rear. "I'm sorry." He hadn't expected the quiet words to come tumbling from his mouth, but they were exactly what he wanted to say. "You were right..."

Sniffling quietly, Clara let out a long sigh, every ounce of air seeming to leave her body. Making her seem smaller than ever. She didn't understand his words. She didn't understand him. "About what?" Her voice was slightly uneven and she didn't lift her head to properly look at him.

"You can sell the whole basket for 5 coppers..." There was a bright edge to his otherwise very solemn words as if he was trying to make a joke, trying to brighten her mood...but the topic wasn't right. Not right now.

Scoffing Clarabell closed her eyes momentarily trying to calm herself before lifting her head and aiming those soulful, bloodshot amber eyes straight at his. "That's not funny."

Gray felt slightly un-nerved at look she sent his way. "I know..." He glanced around them unable to look at her and not wanting to deal with the new emotions she was creating in him. He toyed with the flower in his hands for a few moments before offering it to her. "I suppose this is yours."

Clara's eyes dropped to the rose but she didn't take instead she hugged her legs tighter to her chest. "No. Take it. You caused enough trouble for it..." He couldn't blame her for blaming him, but there was a curious pang in his chest just the same.

"That man could have stopped just as easily as I could've. And if you think I could've just stood there and let him hit-"

"No!" Her voice was determined and more full of conviction than he had ever heard. "I'm sorry," her voice softened so quickly that he glanced over at her only to meet those same sorrowful eyes. "I didn't mean..." Pausing she took a deep, wavering breath, "I'm grateful for what you did...very grateful. I just...I...I don't understand." Her bright eyes searched his. "I don't understand why you're so interested in me, why you follow me, why..." She let the sentence drift off, but he understood where she was going.

Looking away again, he studied the rose, but his mind was elsewhere. Not for the first time he was at a loss for words with her. "You're different. You're not trying to steal every cent I have or lazily sitting in the street feeling sorry for yourself. Though you have nothing, you give away what little you have. You're kind to even those who are less so to you..." He shrugged his shoulders and looked back at her.

"So, I'm a sort of entertainment?" The way she said it made him pause.

"Maybe," But there was a glint in his eye that she had never seen before and a smile in the word even though she couldn't see his lips. Another joke. "You give me hope." These words were more serious and confused her even more.

"Hope? For what?"

It took him a few moments before he simply shrugged again. "That not everyone in this world is so judgmental." He watched her eyebrows draw together for a moment taking in what he said and knew well she wanted more of an answer from him and what question was threatening to spill from her lips, but he didn't give her anything more. "Come on." Standing up he offered a leather glove clad hand down to her. "I know you have a list and I know you're going to need the rest of the daylight hours to haggle down the prices."

She stared at his hand in surprise and quickly shook her head. "What? No! I'm not going back there!"

He grinned beneath his scarf and chuckled softly. "Any why not? Mr. Blonde won't even be in eye sight, I'll make sure of that."

"No...it's not him..." Her amber eyes dropped as a soft pink flush crept up her neck.

"Then who?" Confused he watched her for a couple heartbeats before realization dawned on him. "If you stay here, you let them win. It doesn't matter what you do or say, they will always judge you, little Clara. You mustn't let it get to you. You are far better than they are." Crouching before her, he took her hands in his leather covered ones and with little effort stood up, pulling her to her feet in the process, but she still looked away. "Come on. I'll go with you and they'll stare at me rather than you." The smile was back in his voice and he caught her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. A hand that was far gentler beneath the cool leather than she expected them to be. "You are loved by so many in the market...they far outnumber those who may accuse you of anything."

She couldn't fathom why he was being so nice to her now. Why he cared how she felt or if she wanted to return. Maybe he simply wanted to watch her struggle again, maybe he was simply toying with her...but for as much as she tried to believe the worst in him, she didn't really. She didn't have reason to and it was unfair for her to think that.

"Ok..." She could see him smile in those green eyes of his and he didn't let go of her hand until they were back in the marketplace where he stuck closer to her side than ever as she moved to each of the vendors she needed to see. It was a small blessing that no one seemed to give her another glance although they did send looks to Grayson.

"I think that's everything I need today." Clara said as they moved away from the last stall.

"You are done for today?" There was no mistaking the note of disappointment in his voice.

"Yes." She looked curiously up at him, wishing she could see the rest of his face. Wishing she could read his thoughts. "Thank you-"

Grayson stopped her with a shake of his head. "I'll see you next week then." With a slight bow of his head he turned away from her and left her standing in a state she continuously found herself in around him. Confused and unsure and somewhat surprised. But then maybe that was just the way Grayson was. Shaking her head, there was small smile on her lips as she turned to head home, giving him one last glance back over her shoulder.

And that's how Clarabell's weeks went. Some she suffered more from the hands of her stepfamily but other times not as much, but each passing week she found herself looking more and more to market day and not just because she could escape from her family. Each week Grayson found her at some point or another and accompanied throughout her shopping trip, giving her a hard time after she bought something for a particularly good price and relentlessly testing her patience at every opportunity. And despite how often she felt she embarrassed herself around him, she couldn't help but look forward to seeing him each week. Maybe it was because for the first time she had found a friend.

* * *

"Clarabell! Clara!" The screech of her stepmother's voice had Clara scampering from tending to her rose bush and hurrying into the house to see her mother holding her jewelry box and looking more furious than she had ever seen the woman. Which was saying something indeed. "You little theif! Where are my pearls! Your father gave me those pearls! What have you done with them?"

Clara visibly paled and her fingers clutched at her thin, patched skirts. "I-I I didn't take them." Her voice was meek, timid, and terrified beyond belief. She knew well her stepmother would never belive her.

"Liar! You wretched little girl!" Setting the box on a nearby chair, her cold, cruel eyes narrowed into thin slits she took, slow, determined steps toward her stepdaughter. "Where. Are. My. Pearls." Each word was particularly articulated and each one had Clara trembling more and more violently.

"I don't-I don't-I don't-" But she couldn't even choke out the rest of her words as her stepmother was mere feet away. Knowing what was coming she turned her head to the side, flinching away, but before her eyes closed she spotted Olive pressed to the wall in the hallway, spying. Her eyes were bright and cold with amusement, and a dark smile was spread across her lips.

* * *

Clara took a deep steadying breath as she finally rested against her house's stone well. Her still shaking hands rested against the cool stones as she leaned over the edge and looked down at her reflection in the clear water. Her eyes were red and puffy from the tears, but she had expected that. Her right eye looked and felt more swollen than usual and now looking at the abused skin around it she didn't doubt tomorrow there would be a bruise. Her cheek had been smarting far more than usual as well and now she saw four scrapes along the side of her from cheek bone to her lips from where her mother had placed a well aimed slap, letting her long, sharp nails cut into her skin.

Hiccuping back another round of sobs, her trembling fingers pulled at the ties on the back of her dress and carefully let the fabric fall. Her entire body bore the signs of a lifetime of abuse both new and old, but Clara wasn't looking at those, instead she turned her back to see the damage done today. The whippings had been harsher than usual. She hadn't expected the woman ever to stop and the complete bloodied mess that was her back proved how harsh it had been.

Her whole body shook with her effort to continue to hold herself together. This was nothing new, there was no use feeling sorry for herself. Just because she had been beaten today did not mean her stepmother would be more lenient. She needed to get over this quickly. She needed to clean herself up and move on. She needed to-to-to-oh dear! Please don't cry!

Biting on her lip she tried to focus on wheeling the bucket and up with water, the muscles in her back protesting violently with every movement. But soon she was tenderly patting at the angry marks, wiping away the blood and the cold water soothing her hot, tender skin. From time to time she would hiss in a breath at a particularly sensitive spot, but mostly she tried to clean herself up and wipe the tears away as quickly as possible, wanting to get back to work and not give her stepmother any more excuses for being angry with her.

* * *

"She did this to you!" It wasn't a question. Thom knew all to well who had struck his dear friend. "That's it! Clara you are living with us. Do you hear me? I will not let you back to that house to-"

"Thom," Clara hushed him, nervously glancing around. He was making a scene and over nothing. "You know I can't I-"

"Can't what?" Grayson lazily made his way over, his green focusing on Thom before falling onto Clara and even though they were the only part of his face she could, she couldn't see the concern spark in them. "What happened?"

"I fell." Clarabell said lamely, shooting a look at Thom that warned him not to say a word. "The bread, Thom. I have a big list today."

Shooting a look at Clara he turned to grab the bread, but didn't immediately hand it over. "I'm serious, Clara. You can't stay at that house any long. This has gone on long enough. One of these she's going to-" The frantic look Clara flashed him, had Thom pausing and glancing up at Gray's puzzled face. "You're going to be hurt far more seriously and I'm not going to stand here any longer and let you go through it!"

Before Grayson could get a word in Clara leaned in and snatched the bread out of Thom's hands. "Thank you, Thom. I'll consider you're offer. Have a wonderful day." Turning she made long and quick strides away from the vendor. Today was going to be a long day and for once, she wished Grayson wasn't going to be apart of it.

"Grayson, wait. I've heard everything about you, but you're the only one who can help her." Gray stared at Thom still not quite comprehending the situation. "You care about her."

"Thom," Gray's voice was gentle but there was an edge to it. "She won't take my money."

Thom shook his head. "No. But you can give her something else." Gray looked confused so he continued. "A place in your staff."

Gray's face hardened and he firmly shook his head. "No, she doesn't be-"

"Grayson." Thom's voice was equally as firm and there was something playing in his eyes now, it looked to Gray like desperation. "Her stepmother is going to kill her one of these days-"

"Her Stepmother!" The outrage in Grayson's voice and the visible way he tensed brought Thom's hands up and nervous looks around.

"Please, hear me out. And keep your voice down! If she were in your care, you could protect her. You could-"

"If she were in my house she would see-" Gray cut himself off and shook his head. "My home would be no better place for her."

"If you don't..." Thom let the thought drift and sadly shook his head. "You could tell her, let her make her own decisions..."

A cool smile spread across Grayson's lips and he shook his head. "I'm afraid that type of thing always turns out the same." Pausing he glanced over his shoulder to watch Clara pick out a few heads of lettuce. "I'll think it over. One way or another we'll help her." Glancing back at Thom he nodded his goodbye and went to catch up with Clarabell still thinking over what Thom had said.

* * *

"Why won't you live with Thom and his family?" Gray watched as Clara picked up a pear and examined it.

"I have a home." The answer was simple enough, but Clara wouldn't meet his eyes. Instead she picked out a few more pears and paid for them. "Can we not talk about this, please? I've made my decision, can you please just accept it?" As they moved on, she looked at him with eyes so weary he couldn't help but nod silently and look away. Thom was right. She needed to get out of that house.

* * *

Clarabell couldn't help but drag her feet as she walked back home that day. Every bone in her body told her to turn and run back and accept Thom's offer, but her father's words were ringing in her head. It was her responsibility to help her Stepmother. It was what her father would have wanted her to do. It was what she had always done.

Her back had been so badly hurt that every movement she made she had been able to feel a sharp sting, but now...after a whole day of walking, it had numbed itself. Perhaps she had accidentally knocked the pearl necklace in her cleaning. Maybe if she looked around the furniture it would turn up.

She sighed softly as the house came into view and the she stiffened as she saw horses and a carriage. Who was there?

Her footsteps became quicker now, curious as to what was happening, and the closer she got, the worse she started to feel.

"Perfect. Now all we need are some more of those white flowers..." Clara's stepmother surveyed the courtyard with a smug smile. Finally she had gotten what she had long wanted. The yard was perfect now that those horrid bushes were gone.

"What...what's going on?" Clara had stopped in the doorway, the basket dropping to her feet and her voice a bit breathless as she watched a couple men with thick leather gloves picking up a wheelbarrow full of...of... "My mother's roses..."

"It was time those wretched things were taken out. They were nothing but trouble and seemed to be a distraction from your chores..." The woman looked absolutely thrilled at the way her stepdaughter seemed to crumble as she watched her precious roses being taken away.

"But I-I..." Clara couldn't find the words. Couldn't even make herself move. She just stood there. Staring. Feeling her heart break and barely able to register anything else. "They were my mother's...they were all I had left of-of..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the moment she looked at her stepmother and saw the cold amusement sparkling in the woman's eyes, she knew very well her stepmother heard every word. "I've done everything for you without complaint..." She searched the other woman's eyes, looking for even the smallest shred of...anything else. "It was the only thing I've ever asked of you..."

"I don't owe you anything, Clarabell. I could throw you out on the streets in the blink of an eye with nothing if I chose to. Maybe you should try a little harder to remember that." Her voice was low hiss and she pushed her way past Clara, sending her tumbling into the courtyard and knocking over her basket. "Put the day's shopping away. Now."

Clara stared down at the dirt path on her hands and knees, her back aching, her face throbbing as the salty tears irritated the cuts, and she couldn't make herself get up. How many years had she spent giving everything of herself to make her stepmother happy? Was this what her father would have really wanted?

Pushing herself off the ground, she didn't turn around and go inside. She didn't pick up the basket or anything that had spilled. She walked over to where one of the bushes had been. The one her mother had planted for her and sat down. She gathered her knees up to her chest and buried her head into them, refusing to get up. To go inside. To carry on as if nothing was wrong. And she didn't move. Not when her stepmother called out her orders again. Or when she was threatened with another whipping. Or being thrown out. Not until the woman came out, dug her sharp nails into her arm and dragged her in.


	6. Chapter 6

For the next week, Clara was nothing but a shell of herself. She never said a word and barely even acknowledged the presence of anyone although she did do every thing asked of her. Every night she would go back out to the courtyard and sit where the rosebushes had been and stay there until her stepmother came to drag her back in again.

She was so withdrawn that she hardly even noticed a man come to meet with her Stepmother behind closed doors or the new frigid smiles the woman sent her away.

* * *

"I thought you said you were going to help her!" Thom's angry voice was a hiss out of the side of his mouth as he handed a bag of tarts to an elderly woman.

"I am!" Grayson wasn't one who liked to be chastised. "Do you have any idea exactly how much I had to pay for her?" Not that it truly mattered to him, but Thom had no idea how hard it had been to negotiate with that...that...devil! She had been out for his head the moment his men made it clear he would be getting Clara one way or another. Of course the woman thought he wanted her as a servant, but it didn't matter.

"Have you seen her lately, Gray? She came by this morning and-" Thom stopped and just aimed him a look that would have frightened Gray had he been the type to be scared in the first place. "She hardly said two words to me, if you don't-"

"My carriage will be waiting for her the moment she returns home." Grayson's voice was gentler now. He knew how much Thom cared for Clara in a sisterly sort of way and he'd be remiss if he didn't say he cared for her as well.

"Good. I'm glad she's going to be with you. She'll feel safe knowing-" Stepping directly in front of the other man, Thom refilled the stand with fresh loaves of bread. "What?" He didn't like the look on Gray's face.

"She won't know it's me."

"What?"

"I can't, Thom!" Realizing he was just about shouting, he glanced around before lowering his voice so only the other man could hear. "It's a miracle she hasn't figured it out already. If she knew I was...was..._him..._she would never forgive me."

"Give her a chance, Gray. You know her as well as I do, she doesn't believe in gossip-"

"I can't take that chance. I could-could-" Lose her. He looked away. In the past weeks she had come to mean a great deal to him. He was almost at the point of starting to hope that-that she could-could...but that was impossible and he would be a great fool to even starting hoping again.

"I hope you know what you're doing." Turning to grab a few more loaves of bread, Thom gave him a look that clearly said how much he disapproved of his friend's decision in this. Yes, friend. Thom never thought he'd ever use a kind word towards the likes of him, but Grayson had done more than prove himself in the past week in regards with Clara.

Sighing, Gray shook his head. "Me too."

* * *

"Clara, what's wrong?" Grayson had finally caught up to the girl and was slightly more disturbed than ever as every vendor he had gone to in search of her had said there was something terribly wrong with her.

"Nothing." The single word was softly spoken and she didn't even look at him. Her cheeks were more hollow than usual and the rings under her eyes darker than ever.

"Don't lie to me, Clarabell." Grabbing her hands, he pulled her around, forcing her to face him and she didn't even struggle. "What happened?"

Clara refused to look at him still instead turning her head to look for a vendor selling plums. "Stop it, Grayson. I need to finish." She tried to pull away, but the attempt was pathetic. She was too weak to barely even try to struggle away.

"Tell me what's the matter." Gray stubbornly held her arms, refusing to let her get away. "Why won't you tell me?"

Clara lifted her chin, not saying anything more. For a few long moments Gray simply stared at her. "Are you really going to be like this? With me? I thought we were-"

"Friends?" Clara's eyes flew to his, meeting them for the first time. But while she spit out the single word as if it was a bad taste in her mouth, her eyes looked far away and heavyhearted. "We are, Grayson, but..." She gave him a halfhearted, gloomy smile. "You wouldn't understand, Gray. We are from two different worlds. You have your secrets..." She reached up and gently ran her fingers over the dark scarf covering his face. "And I have mine...Please let me go."

Grayson watched her, but he let her go. And this time he didn't trail her around the market. He simply left.

* * *

Clara felt as if the basket was going to break her arm today. Not that there was anything different about today's purchases compared to other weeks, but for some reason it just felt heavier. Maybe it was because Gray hadn't been with her. Although she was grateful for that small relief. While he had a way of cheering up even her darkest moods, there was no cheering up today. She wanted to sulk.

There was a carriage in front of the house again today. But that was hardly anything new. There always seemed to be someone visiting any more. Taking out the roses. Delivering some white flowering bushes. Men coming to plant them. Others still to move the stone bench. While this carriage was finer than anything she had seen, it didn't surprise her.

Closing the kitchen door behind her, Clara set her basket on the counter. Her fingers had just moved to untie her cloak when she heard her stepmother's shrill voice beckoning her. Forgetting about the cloak, she made her way into the sitting room, where her stepmother sat on a crimson loveseat, a middle aged gentleman with a warm smile sat on her father's winged armchair opposite her.

"There she is, Miles." Her Stepmother smirked at her as the man rose and nodded in greeting at her. "Anne!" Confused Clara stared at her stepmother. Who was Anne?

A slight girl with frizzy blonde hair rushed into the room coming from the hallway of bedrooms. Who was she? She was dressed in servant skirts...

"Oh. Clara. Meet Anne. My new maid." Clara's eyes went back to her stepmother clearly still confused who simply laughed. "You don't get it do you? Well, I'm sure Miles will explain on the carriage ride. But you are no longer my problem. You will be leaving this house at once with nothing other than what you are wearing."

Clara could barely wrap her mind what was going on before she felt a gentle pressure on her back as Miles tried to coax her in the direction of the door. "Don't worry, Clara. I will explain everything. Come, let's not keep Mr. Andrews waiting."

Mr. Andrews? Like a well trained dog, Clara headed to the door, not bothering to say good-bye, and got into the carriage. She had no idea what to think. She barely knew what was going on. Obviously she had been sold. But that in itself was something she was having a hard time wrapping her mind around. Sold? How many times had she been threatened of the same thing or being thrown out? But she had never expected her Stepmother to actually follow through with it. Never.

"I suspect you have a lot of questions." Miles sat on the other side of the carriage, watching her with gentle eyes and a kind smile.

"Mr. Andrews is he the one..." The name sounded familiar.

"There are many things that are said about my employer. Some true and many out." Miles sat back, debating what to tell her. He had been warned to let her come to her own conclusions, but he didn't understand why. It'd be so much easier on her if he could speak freely. "There are other servants working in the house. You will be instructed based on need. Somedays you may find yourself in the kitchens and other times aiding the maid in cleaning."

Clara nodded silently and her eyes drifted out the window as Miles continued to chatter about the house. She didn't care.

* * *

Night had long since fallen by the time they made it back to the...mansion. Or at least so it seemed to Clara. She vaguely recalled Miles telling her there were 8 bedrooms as well as a library, study, and two sitting areas.

"The servants will have gone to bed by now. Mr. Andrews is a rather early riser." Miles smiled and helped her out of the carriage and towards the kitchen entrance. Inside he lit two candles that illuminated the room with a soft glow. "Your room will be right up this staircase here, the first door to your left." He gestured to the stairs. The kitchen looked much the same as any, but of course the cabinets were of expensive wood and everything was pristine and pricey. "You will find everything you need in there and you're lucky." Lucky? Clara's eyes found the man's again. "You have a window overlooking the gardens."

Clara managed a slightly genuine smile. She was told to help herself to anything she wanted to eat before the man took his leave. Heading upstairs to his own rooms. Once alone Clara let out a long breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Resting her hands on the counter she realized for the first time how utterly alone she was in the world. In a house where she knew no one. In a house whose owner-

Hearing footsteps, Clara raised her head and looked towards the doorway, but saw nothing. "Hello?" Her own voice in the otherwise silent house made even herself jump. Oh, what an idiot she was. There was nothing to be afraid of.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts she turned and moved towards a cabinet. Despite having missing both lunch and dinner now, she wasn't really hungry. But she should probably eat something. If for nothing else than to make sure she had the strength to make it through tomorrow.

As she opened a cabinet, she heard the squeak of floor boards again. Whirling around, her eyes went again to the darkened doorway. A shadow was there now. Clearly that of a man. And if all the servants were in bed...

"Mr.-Mr. Andrews?" She spoke quietly again as her eyes squinted, trying to better see him. At first he thought the name meant nothing to her. That maybe she really hadn't heard anything about him, but then her face started to fall and his hopes went with it. "I-I've heard of you...the town says things..." Fearfully she searched the shadows for him. The confirmation that it was him there. She looking for him to reassure her. To tell her that he wasn't going to hurt her.

"And you believe them?" He was angry now. At her. At himself. At the wretched place he found himself in life.

She was trembling now and gripping at her dress with white knuckles. "I-I try not to judge others based on gossip." But that was a blatant lie.

Growling he stepped out from his hiding spot and took slow, careful steps towards her. He heard her gasp, heard her back up and hit the cabinets, and her hands come up to clutch at her lips, fighting back her screams. He knew he was a gruesome sight, especially as the candlelight cast all the wrong shadows. Knew he was confirming all her fears even as he really just only confirmed he was physically a monster. "So...little bird, do the rumors do me justice?" His lips curled back to reveal razor sharp canines as he stepped even closer.

Clara couldn't speak, she was too terrified to even move as he stopped inches away and it wasn't until she saw his hand coming out that she squeezed her eyes shut waiting for the pain, waiting for him to lash out at her. But it never came. Instead she felt his arm by her ear.

"Open your eyes, Clara." His hand was against the cabinet and he was casually leaning against it, but his bright green eyes were aflame with any emotion besides casualness. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

He usually took so much amusement out of scaring them. It was his favorite part whenever he hired a new servant, but as he watched her scramble towards the stairs without the candle, he didn't feel anything but disappointment. In her. In himself. Sighing he rested his head against the cool wood of the cabinet. He was a monster. All it took was a glance to see that. It didn't matter if the whispered rumors were true or not, how could anyone look at him and think anything but the worst? Even his sweet Clarabell. What a fool he was for thinking anything different.

* * *

Clara was standing awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs in the kitchen in a new crisp black maid's uniform. Unlike her rather comfortable patched up one, this one itched and she couldn't wait until she could take it off again.

She hadn't been able to sleep all night. Something she was sure anyone would know the moment they glanced at her face. But every time she had closed her eyes she could see his maimed and twisted face behind her eye lids. Could see his sneer and the sharp teeth. She had never believed the rumors before but now...well...she found it hard not to.

"Well look at you! All skin and bones! Don't you eat!" A slightly rounded middle aged woman turned as she heard Clara come down, her hands on her hips as she looked over the girl. Her apron already dirty from cooking breakfast. "Hannah!"

"Sorry, Norah!" A girl around Clara's own age rushed into the kitchens carrying a silver tray. Her fire red hair poking out from beneath her cap already. "My stars, he is in a mood today!" Setting the tray down the girl turned and started rummaging through a cabinet pulling out spices that Clarabell didn't know the name of. "Twice he yelled at me that there wasn't enough cinnamon in the porridge and, heaven's knows, what he wants it taste like now! Better, he tells me. Better! Tell me, how do you make porridge, better!" Pausing the girl looked directly at Clara as if wanting her to answer. Surprised all Clara could do was give a wide eyed shrug. "You're the new girl aren't you?" But there was nothing unkind in the girl's voice. Instead she gave directed a genuinely friendly smile in her direction. "I hear he wants you to do the shopping and bring his coffee."

Clarabell had no idea how to respond. She hadn't any idea she was supposed to do anything besides what the other servants told her to. "Coffee?" She didn't know what coffee was and apparently it was clearly written on her face.

Hannah laughed, but in a way that didn't exactly make Clara feel like a country bumpkin. "Yes. Coffee. It's a drink. Bitter as anything and vile to my tastes, but he likes it." Smiling still, Hannah turned back to the spices and grabbed one, but before she took the lid off the tray she turned back to Clara. "You know...Mr. Andrews is very particular about who does the shopping. He rarely gives enough money for everything he wants. I'm surprised he trusts you, no offense. You seem like a sweet little thing." Clara managed a small smile back at the girl. Hannah wasn't trying to be mean and that was obviously clear in the way she spoke and acted. Much rather there was a note of curiosity in her voice. She didn't understand how her wary employer trusted the girl so quickly. "And while I'm very grateful not to have to bring his coffee any more...that's something else, he usually isn't so quick to allow anyone else to do."

"Are you going to talk her ear off all morning, Hannah? He's going have your hide if you don't get back out there with that." Norah meanwhile had been cooking something on the stove and she now took down a plate from another cabinet. Piling the plate with what Clara now recognized as pancakes, she could feel her stomach rumbling unhappily. "Now, you are going to sit and eat all this, you understand?" Setting the plate on the counter, Norah grabbed a small glass jar filled with a dark, amber liquid which she poured all over the cakes. "I won't have any skeletons working in this house!" Setting a fork down, Norah looked directly at Clara and pulled out a stool. "Sit. Eat. Now."

No one had ever cooked for her before and she was slightly stunned by how nice everyone was treating her. If they worked for a monster, they obviously didn't allow it to affect how they treated each other.

Clarabell sat down and it only took a few bites before she was enthusiastically eating the entire plate.

After she had eaten enough to Norah's liking, she was told to return upstairs and that each of the bedrooms needed a proper cleaning. It turned out that Norah, Hannah, Miles, and a man named Jensen who drove the carriage, were the only people who worked for Mr. Andrews. Miles mainly stayed in the stables, caring for the horses and readying the carriages with Jensen. But from time to time he would appear in the kitchens and always had a kind word to say to her.

Hannah had been working in the house a year and desperately wanted to become a seamstress. Norah had been there the longest, claiming she had been working there as long as she been able to cook. But none of them would speak too ill of their employer, but neither would they speak well of him either. It seemed they were letting her come to her own conclusions, but that wasn't helpful when she was already fearful of him and hadn't seen him since the night before.

* * *

"Oh, pish posh. You'll be fine. I've yet to see him eat anyone on the staff, so you'll come out in one piece." Norah readied a tray that Clara had been instructed to take to Mr. Andrews in the gardens. "Besides, you're pretty much just bones. He wouldn't want to eat you anyway." She aimed a wry smile at Clara before pushing the tray towards her. "Go. It'll be fine."

Clara didn't think Norah was being funny at all and she made her the last look she sent the cook said so as she headed out the door towards the gardens with the tray. Summer had come and gone and now only the richly colored mums and fall flowers were in bloom. But it was still beautiful. Clara's footsteps were slower as she looked around at the perfectly landscaped grounds. A fountain bubbled merrily in the middle where a few birds lazily procrastinate flying south.

"Are you planning on coming before the water in that kettle grows cold?" The sharp voice brought Clara out of her daydreams and she hurried the rest of the way to where Mr. Andrews was sitting under the shade of an oak tree.

Stuttering over a quick apology she set the tray down before him, unable to look at him. Picking up the cheese cloth, she filled it with the freshly ground beans. The sharp scent filling her nose with the rich smell. Her hands shook so hard that she barely managed to tie the twine around it before setting it in the teacup. Grabbing the tea kettle her hands shook so hard that she had to use both to steady the kettle enough to poor the water into the tea cup.

Taking a deep breath she picked up the tea cup with both hands as well, but she was shaking too hard. The cup rattled against the plate with a soft chiming noise and the dark liquid was sloshing over the side. As she tried to turn towards the monstrous man, she found him standing in front of her, his hands coming to rest on her own. "Here, let me help you." The mangled, gnarled hands somewhat resembled a humans with five flesh covered fingers. But instead of fingernails, claws grew from the tips of his fingers. She envisioned those claws sinking into her skin, ripping her to pieces.

A soft squeak of terror left her and she quickly released the cup. The dark, liquid splashing both of them and the cup shattering the moment it hit the ground. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I need to get a new one!" Still not looking at him she turned on her heel and ran as fast as she could back to the house, not hearing him call after her.

* * *

Gray had watched her walk towards him, unwilling to look at him. He was a monster. She kept confirming it for him over and over again. And momentarily his frustration got the best of him. Enough that he snapped at her to hurry up. But he hadn't meant it. And he regretted it soon after he had said it.

He watched her struggle to prepare his coffee and gradually felt worse and worse for her. What had he done? He had known this was going to be a bad idea. He should never have listened to Thom. She was surely worse off here than with her stepmother.

Unable to watch her struggle on his behalf any longer and tired of watching her unable to even look at him, he stood up to help her. To take the cup, but only succeeded in scaring the wits out of her. She turned and ran the moment he touched her. She was absolutely terrified of him. And he couldn't blame her. He tried to apologize and call her back, but she didn't listen and that made it worse.

Growling he lashed out at the tray sending it flying and shattering the tea pot.

By the time she had worked up enough courage to return, he was gone. Back up to his rooms and watching from the window as she visibly relaxed not seeing him anywhere. He allowed a few moments of deep sadness to overwhelm him as he watched her clean up the mess he had made.


	7. Chapter 7

"Maybe if you just told her-"

"No!"

"But if she knew it was you-"

"I said no!"

"Well then how do you expect her to accept you without-"

"Because that's exactly what she needs to do." Gray was having less and less patience for Thom's continuous insistence that he reveal himself to Clara.

"I don't understand-"

"No, you don't."

"Well maybe if you-"

"No. This isn't your problem." Grayson sent Thom a scathing, silencing look as he spotted Clara working her away over. In the past couple weeks, she had gained some weight and the bags were practically gone from under her eyes. Mr. Andrews hadn't seen her again since that day in the garden, instead having Hannah back to deliver his coffee, but Clara was still doing the shopping each week.

Gray looked forward to each week when she would finally look at him. Talk to him. Smile at him. It had taken some work, but he had gotten her to open up about her new employment and with her new found trust in him, she didn't hesitate to share with him how horrendous she found her employer to be. While she never dealt with him directly nor was ordered about by him, somehow she had painted Mr. Andrews to be the most vile of creatures. Something Grayson wasn't particularly pleased to hear. Sometimes he tried to reason with her. Encourage her to give him a better chance, but then sometimes she would start to close herself off again. Tell me him he had no idea, so now he just tried to avoid the subject all together.

Winter had settled in when Grayson found himself one day rushing her through her usual haggling and pulling her further up the street.

"Come on, I want to show you something." Gray surprised her, by tucking her elbow in his and leading her further up the street. Her basket was full with the days purchases and she had just been about to take her leave.

"I should probably be getting home..." Clara was unsure. The walk home wasn't long since the mansion was right outside the city but she wanted to get back before darkness fell.

"It won't be long. Come on." Gray pulled her further and further along and gradually the vendors changed. Their wares slowly becoming more expensive.

"Gray...Grayson, please!" Clara's footsteps were slowly becoming slower and slower and it was starting to be less and less two people walking and more one person dragging along another. "I don't belong up here." She hissed catching sight of a few more people eyeing not only him but also her. She was out of place more than ever. Though her skirts belonged to a rich household and the cloak she now wore was heavy, warm, and as fine as any servants up here, she still felt like she didn't belong. She never shopped up here and everyone knew it.

"Nonsense. You are with me. Come, it's only a little further." Finally he ducked over to a vendor with wares that were clearly from far away places. Items and trinkets she had never seen before and more still with cultural flairs.

Her honey colored eyes light up on a small exotic wood box with a rose inlay on it's lid. "How beautiful." She dragged a finger along it's smooth exterior before her eyes caught sigh of a grouping of thin, delicate and colorful bracelets. "Where are all these things from?"

"All over the world, miss. Mr. An-ah-Grayson, was telling me you like roses?"

The voice sounded familiar and when she looked up she was surprised to see Miles smiling back at her. "Miles! What are you doing here?"

"This is Mr. Andrews stall, Clara. Jensen and I take turns managing it, but mostly me." He grinned at her.

"I didn't know." Clara smiled before a quizzical look past over her face as she glanced up at Gray. "How-how do you know Grayson?"

"Ah, well, Mr. Grayson shops her frequently enough." Miles looked up at Gray and Clarabell saw something pass between the two that she didn't understand. Some secret she wasn't privy too.

"Do you have the rose, Miles?" Gray glanced around impatiently. This was too dangerous. It was a bag idea. He should never have brought her here.

Nodding the vendor turned his back to grab something from another counter before turning back and what he had in his hands drew an audible gasp from Clara and she forgot all about the odd coincidence.

"Oh my..." Clara's wide eyes stared at the fragile, sparkling rose in the man's hands. The stem and petals were etched out of a deep jade with small emeralds poking out like thorns. And the rose itself was a brilliantly glittering dark red color, perfectly shaped into a new blossoming rose. The individual petals delicately curving out away from their center.

"The stem is jade and emeralds, but the blossom is glass. We found a man who knows how to shape and color it." The man smiled proudly at the treasure.

"What do you think, Clara?" Grayson barely glanced at the rose instead watched the girl, pleased with himself at having found such a treasure. "Have words finally ceased to become in that quick brain of yours?"

Clara couldn't even send him a look, she wanted to stare at the beautiful thing as long as she could, remember every inch of it. "Oh, words can't describe how beautiful..."

Chuckling, Gray plucked the delicate thing out of the man's hands and held it out to her. "It's yours."

Clara stared at the object then at the Miles and finally Gray, her brain refusing to wrap her mind around the meaning behind his words. "Oh, I couldn't-I-I could never take something this fine..."

"It wasn't a question." Gray smirked and handed the man his payment, which Clara never saw since it was in a small pouch, but she knew well the rose didn't have a small price.

"No. Mr. Grayson...I couldn't-I-"

"Clarabell." Drawing her away from the stall he settled his gloved hands on her shoulders, his eyes staring meaningfully into hers. "I know you'd rather the money go elsewhere and I am prepared to give a matching sum away to your cause if that's what it takes for you to accept my gift. But, make no mistake, you will take my gift, Clara. I'll not accept no as an answer."

Well, he had already paid for it. And what use did a man have for something so fine? A small smile worked its way onto her lips and into her eyes. "Thank you, Gray." Her voice was soft and full of appreciation. The last time she had received a gift her father had been alive. "I'm so lucky to have such a good friend."

"You're welcome." Grinning beneath the scarf, he slipped an arm loosely around her waist and guided her back down the street.

She continued to admire the treasure in her hands before something start to nag at her. Suddenly she stopped and looked up at him with eyes so wide and curious and trusting, that he was momentarily taken aback. "Why do you hide behind all this?" She gestured to his clothing, the scarf. "Take off the scarf, Gray, please." She could see him struggle for a few moments and for a second she thought he would, before he completely closed himself off to her.

"I can't, Clarabell." His voice was so quiet, she could scarcely hear him.

"Please, Gray, whatever is wrong, I don't care." She looked so beautiful standing there, pleading with him to reveal himself. But the time wasn't right. She would run screaming in terror from him if he did.

"I do." He could see her start to protest, but he firmly shook his head and started to walk, pulling her along with him. "Please, Clara. Don't ask me again."

His words were so definite that she fell silent, her gaze dropped to the rose, but even he knew she was no longer thinking about his gift. No matter how much he tried to steer her into a different conversation after that, she never said a word until she headed back home when she said "good-bye".

* * *

The long, cold winter days stretched on and still Gray did his best to avoid her at home. He knew he shouldn't. He knew he needed to work to get her to trust him, but he couldn't bear seeing her unable to look at him and trembling like a leaf every time they were in the same room together. It was as if she expected him at any moment to lash out and devour her. The firm judgment was so out of character for her, but then he really wasn't trying to do anything to change that either. He wouldn't even let the other servants speak to her about what he was really like.

He was sitting in his study one evening going over his ships latest deliveries when there was a small knock on his door. "Come in." It took him a moment to look up and see Hannah standing in the door looking quite distraught. "What is it?"

She wrung her hands nervously, not something he was used to seeing her do. "It's-it's Clara, sir."

Not liking the way Hannah seemed so fidgety and liking even less that this involved Clara, he dropped his pen and started to stand.

"She fainted in the dining room, knocked her head on the table." Hannah jumped out of the way as Gray took long steps toward the door and past her.

"Where is she?" The concern in his lowered voice was crystal clear.

"Her room, sir. But, sir, wait!" Hannah grabbed his arm. Something servants could be struck for, but she wasn't afraid of Gray and there was nothing for her to fear. "She is burning up. Has been for the past day, but she was too stubborn to stay in bed. I-I've heard there is a sickness going around..." Hannah's voice faltered and she simply stared up at him concerned for her friend. And with good reason. Whatever it was that was currently spreading around the town, it was leaving more dead than alive.

"I'll call for the best doctors I can, Hannah. She'll be ok. I want you, Norah, Miles, and Jensen to pack what you need and spend some time far from here until I call for you, do you understand? If this is that sickness..." Gray shook his head and stared off down the hallway. "I will pay for any accommodations and you will still receive your normal salaries." Thinking he had said enough Gray turned to head off, but once again Hannah held onto his arm.

"None of us will leave you here alone, sir." Hannah then released his arm.

"Thank you, Hannah." Gray couldn't help a tired smile before he turned around and took off towards Clara's rooms.


	8. Chapter 8

Clara was in and out of consciousness for the next few days and barely able to register anything around her when she did wake. She did come out of it enough to notice someone was always next to her bedside although she couldn't ever make out who it was. Sometimes they tried speaking to her in garbled nonsense and she would feel someone holding her hand. Mostly she couldn't remember a thing from one waking to the next.

Gray was frightened from the moment he walked in the day Hannah had told him, to see her so small and pale and virtually lifeless to every time she would wake up hallucinating. She would thrash about at times and at others her breathing would grow so shallow, he would be on his knees at her bedside, straining to just hear her breaths. The doctor had come to believe this wasn't the sickness sweeping through the town, but it also wasn't any better than it. Her fever refused to come down and he was worried that her body wasn't fighting it as hard as it could be. As if it was too tired and wanting to just give up.

"What has she to live for?" The doctor searched Gray's eyes. Grayson stood outside the door to her room, Norah and Hannah behind him. Clara's sickness had taken a toll on all of them. The balance of the house was off without her and everyone was looking worse for wear because of it.

"What?" Gray's own voice sounded weary and he couldn't remember the last night he had slept soundly since this had all began.

"Family. A lover. Anything. Who can you bring in to talk to her? She needs someone she cares about to bring her out of this. Someone to try and reach her. Someone she's going to fight to see again." The doctor shook his head sadly. "She has given up. And if something doesn't change in the next couple days...she'll be dead by the end of the week." The blunt, harsh words jarred Gray who could do nothing but nod numbly as the man turned to leave.

"We've all tried. She has no one..." Norah's voice broke from behind him.

"There is one..." Hannah's voice was barely above a whisper and Gray had to turn to find her staring right back at him. He had been by Clara's side almost every second. But as Mr. Andrews not... "I've heard her talk about you. She cares for you deeply."

"I've been there. I-"

"But not as Gray. Not as her friend. Talk to her like you would in the marketplace. If there is anyone who is going to pull her out of this, it is going to be him." The plea in Hannah's voice was not hard to miss. They were running out of time and fast.

Shaking his head, Gray went back into the room, shutting the door behind him. Maybe he should dig out out the scarf, himself up, fall into his role. But he couldn't make himself do it. They had so little time left and it seemed to silly to dress himself up when it probably wouldn't work anyway. Besides he was tired of hiding behind the scarf. Of her looking at him differently just because in the market he had a different name.

Sitting in the winged chair, next to her bed that he had rarely been out of since she had first become ill, he leaned over and once again took her hand in his. It was so small, her skin so soft. It was such a stark contrast in his roughened, claw-like hands. Clearing his throat he looked up at to her closed eyes. She looked as if she were in pain fighting whatever infection was raging war in her body.

"Clara..." Her name sounded choked coming from his lips. He had no idea what to say. What to tell her. Then he saw the glass rose. She had put it in a small crystal vase on her bedside table. He supposed so she could see it every night before she went to sleep. "The people at the market miss you, Clara...I miss you. It's not the same there. There's no one to buy the rotten berries." He tried to smile, but found he couldn't. He didn't know what to say. It wasn't like she was going to respond.

"Did I ever tell you that I bought those shoes for 7 silvers that day we met?" He paused and shook his head, not believing he was telling her this, but having no idea what else to say. "I couldn't believe it. This little girl in rags asking to buy shoes for 25 coopers! 25! And there I was fighting over silvers... I nearly shook you when you bought that basket of rotten berries...and Charlie...he's gotten on well with Thom and his family hasn't he?" Despite himself a small smile worked it's way onto his lips. "You know...I think that's why I was so attracted to you. You are so headstrong and stubborn and kind...I've never met anyone else like you, Clara... Did you know when you smile, really smile, you get a little dimple on your left cheek? Just your left. And when you've clearly had enough of me, you give me that look like you want me to shut up...did you know you're always smiling when you do it? Like you're acting like you're just putting up with me, but really you're enjoying the hard time." This was silly. He was talking to someone who wasn't even listening and he wasn't even talking, really, just rambling.

Sighing softly, he pressed his lips to her hand. Wishing she would open those pretty soft brown eyes of hers again. "I love you, Clarabell." The words were softly spoken and not at all what he had intended to say. And he realized for the first time, that he was admitting that as much to himself as he was to her. But it was true. He loved her, had for quite some time.

He sat like that for a while. Rambling about the times they spent together, pausing for long stretches simply to watch her. Quietly admitting from time to time how much he cared for her again. Hoping that more than anything else would reach her. Would pull her back to him. But it wasn't until late that night that she opened her eyes again, looking straight at him as if she could see him.

"Gray?" She felt like her head was swimming, but she thought she had heard his voice. The dizzying, revolving room slowly focused for a moment, but it was not Grayson's hidden face she saw. It was Mr. Andrews' twisted one. He seemed to smile at her. His green eyes looked worried. But how could a monster be concerned about her? She focused on him for a moment before her heavy eyelids became to much and she drifted back off again.

The next morning her fever finally broke and by afternoon she had woken up again, more alert than ever. For the first time, the room easily coming into focus. Hannah was by her side, when she turned her head to see who was with her.

"Clara! Oh, you're awake! Thank goodness! We didn't think that-that-oh nevermind!" Sitting forward in her chair, Hannah smiled at Clara who couldn't manage a smile back.

"Grayson, was he-is he here?" The words were barely more than a whisper, her throat felt dry and sore. But she had to ask. Clara couldn't remember anything from when she had woken up besides that. He had been here. She had heard him. Well, she couldn't remember really what he had said, but she knew she had heard his voice.

"No, sweetheart. Let me go get Mr. Andrews-"

"Mr...Andrews?" Her whole body ached and she still felt so incredibly tired.

Hannah smiled softly and nodded. "He's barely left your side this past week, Clara. He cares about you."

That was hard to believe. She couldn't imagine him caring for anything. But then...maybe she didn't really know him. "Week?"

Hannah nodded but didn't elaborate, unsure of how much really to say. "Let me go get him."

She must have fallen asleep soon after Hannah left because the next time she woke up her room was dark besides the candle burning beside her bed. And it was no longer Hannah that sat in the chair besides her.

* * *

Mr. Andrews was fast asleep, his chin resting against his chest. She studied him quietly. In sleep his face seemed much more relaxed and much less twisted than when he was awake. Why was he in here? Why did he care what happened to her? Silently she watched him, trying to come up with reasons to hate him, but finding none. Aside from the night she had arrived, he hadn't done anything to her. He had barely ever spoken to her. When had she become so judgmental? Who was she to say what he cared about and what he did not?

Everything she thought about him wasn't because of what she had seen, but what she had been told. How unfairly had she treated him? Sighing softly, she looked away from him. She felt so tired and she didn't really want to think about Mr. Andrews right then or the reasons behind why he cared.

"You're awake." His voice was rough from sleep, but apparently her sigh had woken him. As she looked over, he straightened up and stretched in his chair before leaning forward to look at her, a smile turning up his lips, revealing those teeth. She must have looked terrified for the smile disappeared quickly and he sat back. "I see you're still afraid of me..." He sounded disappointed.

"I-I-"

But he simply shook his head and stood up, silencing her with a long, bittersweet look. "I'll find the doctor. Stay awake long enough this time, will you?" His hand was on the door handle and he was just about to walk out when she called out to him.

"Wait! Hannah said-said, you have barely left my room since I fell ill...?"

A slight smile barely softened his face. "Yes."

"Why?" She couldn't understand it. Not when she had done everything to avoid him.

He took long enough that Clara didn't think he was going to answer her at all. "I...realized my mistake. I shouldn't have been so harsh towards you that first day I...I'm used to people thinking they know me. I was angry that you would be the same. I wanted to make it up to you. This seemed like a good idea." Taking care of her. Before she could say anything else he had disappeared but was back a short time later with the doctor.

She would have to stay in bed until her strength had returned, but the man said she was over the worst of it. As soon as he left, Mr. Andrews lingered in the door way, looking lost and unsure of himself. She could tell he wanted to stay, but judging how she still guardedly watched him he wasn't sure that was the best idea.

"Oh, bless! I'm so happy to see you up, sweetheart!" Hannah rushed in a simple robe over her night clothes just then past him and over to her with a tray of soup. She set the tray over Clara's lap and revealed the broth. "Nothing too much. Just plain chicken broth and some crackers. Norah was just about to cook a turkey for you!"

She didn't feel all that hungry, but she wasn't sure when she had last eaten either. A week? It seemed like a day since she had woken up feeling sick. Clara murmured her thanks and picked up the spoon, but her arms felt so weak and she did little else but succeed in spilling it all over herself. She looked beseechingly up at her friend.

"Mr. Andrews, would you be so kind?" If Mr. Andrews looked like a trapped deer it was nothing to the look Clara was sure was playing on her face, but Hannah chose to ignore both. "Norah and I are swamped with work for the morning! Please, sir, would you be able to help? I'd so appreciate getting back to bed.." Most wouldn't ask such things of their employers. But most weren't Hannah either.

"I, um..." His eyes locked with Clara's and she had to fight down the feeling of fear she had whenever he was in the same room as her. He had been nothing but kind towards her. Had seen to a doctor. Had made sure she wasn't ever alone. Maybe he wasn't as bad as she made him out to be.

"Please, Mr. Andrews..." Clara was surprised to hear her own weak voice, but she was proud that it didn't shake. She watched as he walked slowly over and Hannah left, shutting the door behind her.

Pulling the chair closer he sat beside her looking nervous. If someone thought with hands so large and gnarled would be clumsy, they were wrong. He picked up the bowl and spoon and carefully dipped the spoon into the broth, making sure to blow lightly on the soup to make sure it wasn't too hot before carefully holding it to her lips, not spilling a drop.

It went on like this for a few spoonfuls. Him making sure every spoonful wasn't too hot and never spilling a drop.

"I'm sorry too." Clara finally managed, her eyes meeting his. "I...I never gave you a chance..."

Setting the spoon in the bowl, he smirked. "I can't blame you. If people said the things about you that they do about me. I wouldn't have given you a chance either."

She knew he was trying to make her feel better, but it just made her feel worse. Looking away she shook her head. "No. I don't usually judge people like that I-"

"People? Are you calling me a person, Miss Clarabell?"

Her eyes snapped back to his, her eyebrows drawing together, trying to figure him out. He sounded like he was joking, but then, she didn't really know him.

"I'm joking. We were both wrong...shall we start over? I don't believe we ever properly introduced." There was an easy grin on his lips now as he set the empty bowl on her nightstand. "I'm Ian Andrews."

Seeing his grin, Clara couldn't help but smile. "Clarabell Crossley."

"Well, Miss Crossley. It has been a pleasure caring for you this past week, but if you will forgive me for saying, I do hope your back on your feet again soon. I can't imagine this room is going to be very entertaining although I will do my best to make it so." He was still grinning at her and it struck Clara for a moment, that he didn't look as frightening as before.

"You? Surely you have so many business matters to attend to..." Clara couldn't get over that he had apparently been constant at her bedside. Why he would ever care what ended up happening to her? Surely there were twenty other girls who could easily replace her if need be.

He shrugged. "Business can wait. Besides you're more...entertaining."

Her eyes narrowed again and she searched his face curiously. Entertaining? Immediately her thoughts went to Gray. "Was there...Did anyone else visit me?"

"You mean besides Norah, Hannah, and Miles?" He paused a moment debating what to tell her. "Thom came. But no one else."

Clara could feel her face fall and she looked away from Mr. Andrews. She had been so sure she had heard Gray's voice. And why wouldn't he come to visit her? He was her very best friend besides Thom. What had kept him away? Surely if Thom had found out, Grayson would have too.

Mr. Andrews felt terrible sitting there, watching Clarabell struggle with her emotions. Little did she know her friend had been with her the whole time, but he couldn't tell her that. He couldn't reveal himself yet. They may be at a delicate understanding, but she didn't care for him yet as Ian Andrews like she did Gray. And he was afraid if he merged the two now, her distaste for Ian would out win whatever she felt for Gray. Standing he picked up the bowl and tray. "You should probably sleep some more. The doctor said you do need plenty of it. One of us will be back in the morning with more soup."

She nodded her good-bye and watched him disappear out the door. She wanted to think more about how odd it was for Gray not to have visited, but the moment Ian left, so did most of her energy and despite herself she fell quickly back to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

((Sorry this chapter is a little late. My mom has to have some minor surgery next week so I'm taking her to a bunch of appointments this week so she can get the all clear. on top of the normal stuff I've got going on. I'm almost caught up on my writing too since I haven't been able to write the past few days and this week is going to be a little busier than usual. So, I'm going to do my best to still get a chapter up everyday, but realistically it might be one every other day. :( Sorry guys. With luck next week will be back to the normal chapter a day :) Thanks again for all the reviews and alerts and everything. It means a lot to me to know you all enjoy it so far. :) ))

True to his word, Mr. Andrews visited her multiple times a day over the next few weeks, occasionally even to bring her meals. He spent hours on end sitting beside her bed, chattering to her about what was going on downstairs or in town. It took some getting used to. Not jumping when he opened the door. Or being able to just look at him. But he didn't seem phased by any of her struggles and he came so often she found herself starting to relax. Besides...he wasn't nearly as rude and intimidating as he first appeared.

"Tell me about this rose, Clara." Towards the last week of winter, Mr. Andrews sat beside her and after a lengthy lull in the conversation he picked up the rose Gray had got her. Gray was a touchy subject. She hadn't seen him since before she had gotten sick and no matter how much she pestered Hannah about seeing him, the man had yet to turn up. Anywhere. Even Thom, who visited once a week to bring her favorite pastry, claimed he hadn't seen him. She was starting to worry something had happened.

"A friend got it for me..." Propped in her bed, she watched as Ian twirled it in his fingers so that the sunlight danced and sparkled off the glass and precious stones. "...from your stall, actually."

"I thought it looked familiar," Ian paused, staring at the flower before glancing over to her. "Tell me about this 'friend'. Is it the same one you keep talking to Hannah about?"

A soft pink blush stole up her cheeks. She hadn't thought he knew about her talks with Hannah. "He...well, he's very kind to me. He accompanies me on my shopping trips." She didn't know what else to say about Gray. At least not to her employer.

"And?" When she just looked blankly at him, he smirked. "A friend who simply walks with you around the market does not buy expensive gifts like this. He must care for you, do you care for him, Miss Crossley?"

Clara stared at Mr. Andrews not quite sure how to respond to that, but the deepening blush on her cheeks spoke volumes on how much she cared for Gray. "He...he hasn't visited me once, Mr. Andrews...it is quite obvious that for all I may care for him, he does not return the same feeling."

He didn't know how to respond to that so instead he returned the rose to the vase, letting the silence once again stretch between them. But he couldn't feel above and beyond pleased that she did have feelings for Gray-for him. It was at least a step in the right direction. Surely if she could Gray, she would undoubtably love him...they were one in the same after all.

"Where do your ships go, Mr. Andrews?" She had never left town, she couldn't imagine traveling across oceans.

Ian grinned and leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs. "All over, Clara. We have found islands in the oceans to the west where we trade for exotic spices and woods and trinkets. In the east we landed on a larger piece of land and found a people who mine the stones like the ones in your rose." His eyes were bright as he spoke of it, although there was something else there as well. Like a sense of regret he wasn't able to be on the boats as well. "The world is so much larger than we could have ever imagined, Clarabell. It's a shame so many will never know it...see it."

"Why don't you travel with them, Mr. Andrews? You clearly would like to..." Clara always had a knack for reading people.

The brightness faded somewhat from his face and his emerald eyes dropped to his malformed hands. "I don't leave this house, Clara...surely you, above anyone else, would understand why." His eyes lifted to meet hers and her heart twisted seeing the pain and loneliness behind them.

Unable to look at him, she looked away, fighting back the tears that were suddenly overwhelming her for him. In the weeks since she had woken up, she deeply regretted any harsh thing she had thought of him. He was gentler and kinder than she had ever expected. He had a sweet sense of humor and was continuously trying to make her smile. She now doubted anything that she had ever heard about him was true. "Why do they say such terrible things about you?"

Ian waited a few long moments to respond. "I suppose in the past, I was bit more brash than I am now. I never hurt anyone, but I was cruel enough that the rumors started and it wasn't hard to believe them. And now they have just spread so far, it has become simply common knowledge. And I simply don't care enough to try and rid myself of them."

Clara thought about that for a bit. She had certainly heard the rumors and believed them before she had ever known him. But they were still sad all the same. If people only gave him a chance they would see he wasn't the monster people perceived him to be. "How-how did you become...like that?" Perhaps it was a rude question, but she was curious to know.

It took Mr. Andrews so long to respond that Clara was about ready to apologize when she heard his quiet voice. "I use to be human. I suppose I was considered attractive physically but...I made some wrong choices and...perhaps one day I will tell you the whole story, Clarabell, but not tonight." Suddenly he stood up and before he could stop himself he was leaning down and pressing his lips to her forehead. "Good night, Clara. Sleep well." And just as quickly he had left.

She had upset him. She knew she had. But while she knew her mind should be reeling over that fact and over the story he had just told her, she instead sat there wondering and confused about what had just made him kiss her.

* * *

Gray didn't know what had made him start telling her the story, but the moment he made it back to his rooms, he slammed his fists against the wall. If it wasn't for the curse, for what he had done, for anything, he could have had her love by now. He could be himself completely with her. They could be talking about perhaps a future...anything but why he was a monster.

How did he become like this? How indeed. Pacing angrily around the room, he stopped in front of a mirror and stared at his contorted face. He looked like the monster in a child's dreams. He was hideous and for as much as he may forget about it, Clara never would. It would be there every time she looked at him. And who would want to look at him every day for the rest of their lives?

This was pointless. How long had he been sitting by her side? How long had he been trying to make an effort to show her he wasn't a monster...but she would never see through it... It would always be there... He hated what he was. Hated that she saw him like this. Hated that it had been an innocent question and yet he could barely control the overwhelming sense of bitter disappointment and frustration. Everyone else had long since stopped bringing it up, but she was making him face himself. And all he wanted to do was hide himself away from it. But every time he looked in her eyes there it was again. Another hideous reminder.

* * *

"Hannah says the weather is wonderful outside today." Clara was propped up in bed with a book in her lap and feeling rather stir crazy. She had spent so long in bed recovering that now she was confined even longer because her legs no longer wanted to support her. While the illness had long since left her body, now she spent her days slowly just trying to make it further and further down the hall without her legs giving out.

Gray had paperwork spread out on the bedside table. Since she had questioned his past, he had been trying to keep his distance from her, but she was having none of it. Just the other day, she had asked him, with those big soft brown eyes if he couldn't work in her room. She had sworn not to say a word, but she desperately wanted some company. Hannah and the others were too busy to spend much time visiting, but she was sick of only having the birds at her window as company.

"I thought you said you were going to keep quiet," Gray had been staring at the same two numbers for the last half hour because of her.

"I'm sorry," Clarabell sighed softly. Thom had visited her the other day. Apparently he had seen Gray in the marketplace flirting with some girl. She didn't understand what was going on, but she did know it didn't sound like the Gray she knew. She wished she could get out. Visit him, talk to him, understand what had happened. "It's just-" Gray threw down his pen and gave her a sharp look. "I'm-I'm sorry." She managed to squeak out before picking her book back up. Mr. Andrews didn't seem to have the time of day for her much any more either. But then...he was hardly as kind towards her as he had been since she had brought up his past...

"After lunch..."

"What?" Clara lowered her book and looked over to him in surprise, but he wouldn't look back at her.

"After lunch we'll go out to the gardens. One of my new bushes it apparently coming in..." He felt sorry for her. He knew what it felt like to be trapped in this house. And how could he deny her something, when he knew how happy it would make her?

Smiling now, she nodded. "Oh, thank you! It'll be so nice to get out of this house! What kind of-" But she stopped as he sent her another hard look and she picked her book up again, the smile never leaving her lips.


	10. Chapter 10

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying this. Clara had been stubborn enough to want to walk as far to the gardens as she could. And while she could make it from her bed to the door without help, from her door and down the stairs she needed his arm around her waist for support. He liked the way she leaned against him as they walked and he didn't hesitate the moment he noticed the effort was beginning to be too much for her, to sweep her up into his arms and carry her the rest of the way, taking care to make sure his claws didn't hurt her.

"This is embarrassing." She buried her face into his shoulder even though there was no one to see her. "I can't believe my legs..."

Mr. Andrews was grinning, unable to hide his amusement for the whole situation. "Well, Miss Crossley, we are going to have to tell Norah to stop putting honey in your porridge if this is going to be a frequent occurrence."

Gasping she pulled back and gave him the most disapproving look that he couldn't help but laugh. "That was very mean of you, Mr. Andrews."

A wry smirk twisted his lips up in a dark humor as he raised an eyebrow at her. "Pray tell, what rumors have you ever heard that said I was nice?"

Not having a response to that one, she continued to give him that same look before she glanced around, trying to figure out where they were going. The spring weather had just recently warmed enough that there were buds on the flowers and bushes. He carried her over closer to a fountain where one of the beds had some new sprouts. "What are those?"

Setting her down on her feet, Mr. Andrews smiled at both her question and the feel of her leaning against him again. "The newest addition to my gardens. I planted them last year. I wasn't sure until now that they were even going to grow."

Gripping onto his arm, she walked closer, staring curiously at them. "But what are they going to be?"

Watching her, his face softened although she didn't see it. "Roses."

"Roses? But they are so hard to grow! Where did you even get the seeds?" Shocked she tilted her head to look up at him. As far as she knew the only other person who was able to grow roses was the gardener at the palace.

He shrugged nonchalantly, "I didn't have seeds. I got a rose last year from some girl in the marketplace." A small smirk worked its way back onto his lips as he saw her eyes widen. "I planted a piece of it. My-" Clearing his throat, he suddenly looked away. "-father used to plant that way. I figured I'd give it a shot..."

"Hannah bought a rose from me?" Her eyebrows drew together in bewilderment as she tried to remember the faces of people she had sold her flowers to last year, but it was impossible. While she knew many of the people who bought them, there were many faces she simply did not remember.

Mr. Andrews decided not to answer that question, instead choosing to look interested by a loose thread in his sleeve. Hannah wouldn't deny it, but Ian was doing his best for the first time in his life, to not lie. Which was ironic considering the rest of the situation he found himself in.

"These are my mother's roses..." The thought hit her like a sack of potatoes as she looked back down at the sprout-lings. She had thought they were all gone the day she had come home to find her stepmother had ripped them all out...but here they were. Growing in Mr. Andrews gardens. "I didn't think I'd ever see them again..."

Ian glanced at her and could see the tears shining in her eyes. "Don't get your hopes up quite yet. They are still quite small. And there's still a greater possibility of them dying than not." His voice was gentle, but he wanted her to know the reality. There was a great chance the sprout-lings wouldn't make it between frosts and hungry rabbits.

"No." The single word was filled with such emphasis and she stood a little straighter. "She managed to grow two of these bushes in our courtyard. These ones will grow just as full and beautiful." They had to. They were all she had left of her family now and she wasn't about to give that up again.

Mr. Andrews didn't say any more about it and instead he started to guide her back to the fountain.

* * *

"Well look at you, up on your own two feet again!" Hannah paused from preparing Mr. Andrews' coffee tray as Clarabell stepped off the stairs, alone, for the first time in...well, too long.

"I don't know why you're dressed like that! You are not working just yet." Norah paused from washing broccoli to stare disapprovingly at the itchy maid's skirts Clara was in.

"I'm tired of laying in that bed all day or sitting in chairs. I'm more than ready to work again! Besides you both need the help!" The desperation was clear in her voice. She would go mad if she had to spend another day staring out her window or at another book.

"I'm offended," Ian leaned casually against the doorway to the kitchen, a usual bemused smirk lighting up the twists in his face. "Here I've done everything to keep you entertained and yet you still want to-" Shrugging he waved around, "-dust and sweep and mop."

"I've appreciated it, Mr. Andrews. Honestly, I have. But I can't sit still any more." Aside from working on gaining strength in her legs, she didn't do anything and it was driving her crazy.

"Hm," Turning he left to return to his study, leaving her and the other servants to sort it out. Mostly he didn't care what she did. The doctor had given her the all clear to do as she pleased as long as she rested when she got tired. But he was disappointed he wouldn't be spending nearly as much time with her now as he was.

"The shopping! I know today is shopping day I could-" And maybe she would see Gray...

"No!" Norah didn't even send her the look this time. "If you're desperate to do something, the silver needs polishing."

"But she'll be sitting!" Clarabell was grateful for Hannah coming to her aid.

"Yes, I suppose she will..." Norah set the vegetable aside and moved to grab a knife.

"Please, Norah, I'll-"

"Forget it, Clara." Surprised Clara looked at Hannah confused on how her friend was changing sides so quickly. "You can rest all day then, tonight we'll just have to go to a ball to make up for it." There was a cocky little grin on her friend's lips.

"A ball?" Clara had never even imagined going to one let alone knew there was one tonight.

"You haven't heard?" Hannah sent her friend a look of disbelief. "The prince is trying to find himself a wife. The royal family decided to hold a masquerade ball so he could meet all the eligible ladies."

Clara couldn't do anything but laugh. The last place she belonged was at a ball with the nobles. "You can't be serious. They're all going to be titled ladies there. We would-"

"No. They invited everyone. The whole town. Everyone knows they're only extending it to the likes of us because they raised the taxes again and they want to win our favor, but oh well. Come on, Clara! It'll be fun!"

"You girls don't even have gowns fancy enough for a _ball._ And that's precisely why they invited everyone. They knew none of us would dream of showing up in our rags." Norah could scarcely help rolling her eyes. A ball was certainly not the place to meet a future queen in her opinion.

"But I _do_ have one, Norah!" Hannah grinned boastfully.

"What?"

Picking up the tray, she couldn't help but pridefully puff out her chest just a little bit. "My mother was the queens handmaid. When she got married, the queen gave her the prettiest deep purple gown I've ever seen!"

"I'd like to see you get permission from Mr. Andrews to go, Hannah." Norah scoffed and continued cutting her vegetables.

"We're both going to get permission, Norah. Me and Clarabell. And we'll make sure we get to dance with the prince too. At least twice." Hannah winked at Clara as Norah started cackling. "We'll plan later, Clara." And she hurried off to take Mr. Andrews his coffee.

Clara wasn't exactly sure what to say. She wasn't exactly sure how serious Hannah was being but a glance at Norah again reassured her that at least the older woman thought the whole thing was a joke. And when she made a comment about starting the silver herself if Clara was just going to stand there and fantasize about the prince all day, Clarabell scampered off to busy herself.

* * *

"So, what gowns do you have?" Hannah came into the dining room where Clara sat buffing away at the silver and plopped herself down in one of the chairs.

"I don't have any." Clara didn't look at her friend but rather held the spoon up and watched it shine in the light.

"Well, that's a problem." Hannah sat back and quietly watched for a few long moments. "What about that baker friend of yours? Isn't his wife a seamstress?"

"I could never afford to buy-"

"Just ask to borrow one. Don't give me that look! I'll chip in. Come on, Clara! I'm dying to go! This might be the only chance I ever get to go to a _ball._ Come with me to town. We'll ask together!"

"Hannah, I can't-"

"Please, Clarabell! Please! Just this one little thing for me?" Hannah's face was so eager that Clara had a hard time finding her resolve. She didn't want to let her friend down. Not after everything she had done for Clara over the past couple months.

"If she says yes, I suppose I could-"

"Oh, perfect! Thank you, Clarabell!" Jumping up, Hannah was completely lit up with excitement. "I'll tell Norah and we'll head to the market now."

* * *

Despite Norah's rather loud protests on Clara staying home, Hannah managed to drag Clara out all the same. Clara was just more than happy to not only be out of the house again, but also to be away from it and see all the people she hadn't in months. As Hannah pulled her around Clara idly chatted with a few of the vendors she knew, all the while her eyes searching, albeit a bit hopelessly, for one particular man.

"-my granddaughter is about to here now. Cute little thing. Did I tell you about the time-"

"I'm sorry, John, but have you seen Gray at all?" Clara couldn't help but interrupt the shoe salesman who could talk for days on end if she let him. And she had been searching all day for Gray, hoping for even just a glimpse but she hadn't seen him.

"Ah, well, I, um-" Looking suddenly flustered, John looked away and tried to tidy a pile of shoes. But he never did that. There was no tidying a pile of ragged shoes.

"John, please," She reached over and laid a hand gently on his arm. "Tell me. It's ok."

"I-um-I don't know if I should, Clara." Looking up at her she could see him warring with himself. He wanted to tell her something, but something else was holding him back. "It's not right what he's doing to you. And he should really tell you, but I'm not sure he will..." Clarabell stared at him rather confused but there was a sinking feeling growing in her stomach that he had found someone else. Not that they had ever been courting or anything, but... "Look, Clara, Gray is-"

"Oh, there you are! Clara, I'm all done!" Rushing over to the pair, Hannah sent John a look before turning back to her friend. "Come on! Let's go get your dress!"

"No, wait! John what were you going to say?" Clarabell stubbornly refused to move as Hannah tried to tug her in the other direction. Someone was finally willing to talk to her about Gray and she wanted to hear it! Even if it broke her heart.

John glanced at Hannah and then back at Clara. Whatever unstable resolve he had just moments ago had faded away again and he shook his head. "He needs to tell you, Clara. Not me." And then he turned away and busied himself with a customer, determinedly avoiding Clara.

Disappointed, she slowly turned away wishing that Hannah hadn't shown up when she did. Following after her friend she couldn't help but feel even less excited about where they were headed. "How come no one will talk to me about him, Hannah? How come you won't talk to me about him?"

Hannah's footsteps didn't falter, but she didn't immediately respond either. "Because he asked us not to. He wants to talk to you himself." That was strange considering he seemed to be doing his very best to avoid her.

"When?" Clara stopped suddenly and forced Hannah to stop to and turn towards her. "How long has it been, Hannah? I haven't seen him in months! I thought he was my _friend_! If he wanted to talk to me, surely he would have done it."

Biting at her lip, Hannah's face softened and stepped up next to Clara, wrapping a comforting arm around her and gently pushing her toward's Thom's again. "He will, Clara. Trust me. He hasn't forgotten about you. Men are just...hard headed sometimes. Can't we just forget about him right now? We have a gown to pick out!" But Clara was feeing miserable again and the energy that she had seemed to now seep away. She just wanted to crawl back into bed and dream about never having met the likes of Grayson.


	11. Chapter 11

"With your dark hair, we should put you in a darker color gown! You're wearing purple, did you say, Hannah?" Sarah had been even more excited than Hannah when she found out they were wanting to attend the ball and she had offered to dress them both before Hannah could even ask. She had gowns sitting that hadn't been delivered to their owners yet. And more still that needed their trimmings sewn on.

"Yes!" Hannah had a sleeping baby Molly in her arms and Clara couldn't help but feel a little happier as she looked over Hannah's shoulder at the adorable baby. "Isn't she just the cutest little thing, Clara? Look at these tiny fingers!"

Clara smiled and looked up to watch Sarah rummage through a long rack of dresses. "How's Charlie?"

Sarah paused a moment to send a long look at Clara. The young woman was only a few years older than Clara and a brand new mother, but Clara could remember her Stepmother using that same look on her stepsisters.

"He's a boy, Clara. He's all over the place all the time. Doesn't want to get out of bed in the morning. Horsing around with Thom at night while Molly's trying to sleep-" Clara started to feel very tired again as Sarah spoke. She didn't know where else to send him. She supposed she could ask Mr. Andrews, but what use would he have for a young boy? "-but he's a good kid. He helps Thom fill the pastries. He patiently holds Molly while she cries and I'm cooking dinner. He doesn't complain. Ever." Sarah pulled out an Emerald green dress and moved back over to the other two. "His shoes were pinching his feet for Lord knows how long and it was only during his bath one week that Thom just happened to notice the marks on his feet. Never said a word, that kid." She shook her head and Clara couldn't help but smile, feeling relieved. Charlie was a good kid where it counted and she was beyond happy to see Sarah and Thom saw that. "How do you like this one?"

The emerald dress was over all pretty and somewhat plain besides the gathers in the skirts. It looked form fitting until about the waist before it flared prettily out. The sleeves were off the shoulder and it looked like one of the gowns currently in fashion. And Clara was positive if she was going to wear a gown, th exact one she would pick. It was beautiful in a simplistic way and not flamboyantly overdone.

"The owner will never know you wore it. She wants these tacky pearls all over the thing and a navy sash. I don't know what she's thinking, but who am I to tell a lady what's fashionable?" Smiling Sarah laid it in Clara's arms. "Go try it on. Let's see what we have to do to get it to fit you." Sarah helped her out of the maid's uniform and into the lovely dress.

Clara had never worn anything so fine. She felt like a princess in the dress. Looking at herself in the mirror, she ran a hand over the satin fabric. It fit her perfectly. The bodice clung to her in all the right ways, giving her a very feminine figure. "It's beautiful..." Clara barely whispered, afraid that if she spoke to loud the seams would come undone.

"You look stunning in that, Clara." Hannah stood beside her marveling over how pretty her friend looked. "What about a mask?"

Grinning Sarah came back with a cream colored one. It was delicately stitched with tiny stones that glittered in the light. "I had to make so many of these. This is the last one I have left." She tied it around Clara's eyes, making sure the knot on the string was hidden under her hair.

Clarabell could scarcely recognize herself in the mirror. Hannah lightly fluffled and pulled bits of her hair forward. "We can curl your hair with an iron. It would be so pretty. The prince will hardly be able to take his eyes off of you!"

Clara looked at Hannah surprised before shaking her head. "There will be many more beautiful ladies than me. Besides I'm sure the prince won't want to dance with a maid." She untied the mask and changed back into her uniform. Hannah didn't say another word, but there was a smile on her lips that just wouldn't go away.

"I do need the dress back for tomorrow morning, Clara. I can probably manage to stay up until midnight, but Molly wakes up early, I can't be up any longer than that." Sarah felt a bit bad giving her friend a time limit, but she had to. She needed to start sewing the pearls onto the dress tomorrow and it would be easier for Clara to give it back tonight rather than wake up extra early tomorrow after such a long night of dancing.

"Of course. I'll probably be back long before then." Sarah just gave Clara a smile and took her baby from Hannah as the two started to leave.

"Have some fun, Clara. You deserve to enjoy yourself for a change." Sarah opened the front door for them and waved goodbye as they started to head home.

* * *

Clarabell sat still as a statue in a chair in her room as Hannah wielded a curling iron, hot from the fire. She was terrified Hannah was going to scorch her with that thing.

"You're as white as a ghost, Clara! Relax! I know what I'm doing! I watched my mom curl the queen's hair every day! And I used to do the same to Lady Brahm." Hannah deftly and carefully wrapped her friend's hair around the iron, quickly curling and releasing each bunch of hair.

"How did you end up working for Mr. Andrews, Hannah?" Clara needed to get her mind of the searching iron inched from her scalp.

"I used to work in the kitchens in the palace until my mama died of the fever a few years ago. Then I worked for Lady Brahm. She was a nice lady, but her husband..." Hannah paused and for a moment she hesitated before picking up another section of Clara's hair. "...well, he was a little too touchy feely if you know what I mean." Clara had heard enough stories that she knew exactly what Hannah meant, unfortunately. "I heard through some friends in the market that Mr. Andrews was looking for a maid. I was scared at first, because of the rumors, but I didn't think he'd be any worse than Lord Brahm. So I applied and here I am."

Clara glanced back at her friend. "What about your father?"

Hannah shrugged and picked up the last section of Clara's hair. "Never knew him. He left my mama before I was even born. There now. Let's get a mirror." Hannah set the iron down near the fire and retrieved a small hand mirror from the nightstand. She lightly loosened some of the tight curls with her fingers and pulled some hair onto Clara's shoulders before letting her friend have the mirror. "I think you're going to put all those ladies to shame."

Clara glanced at herself and stared at the soft, gently curls cascading over her shoulders. Her hair was long now that she had it unpinned and she had never seen it look so pretty. She almost felt like an imposter between the hair and dress. They weren't _her._ She wasn't some lady at court. She was a maid. And maid wasn't supposed to look so pretty.

"Clara..." Hannah knelt down in front of her friend. "Stop looking like that. You look beautiful."

"I don't belon-"

"Why? Why don't we belong? We cook their food. Make their beds. Clean their homes. If anyone belongs we do."

"That's not-"

"Did you before Finley Bainbridge become a knight and lord that he was a blacksmith?" Clara stared at her friend trying to figure out if Hannah was just telling a story or not. "It's true. It's not their blood that makes them a lady or lord, Clara. Any one of us could be one of them. Even you." Hannah grinned and tugged gently at one of Clara's curls.

"Where's your dress? Shouldn't we be going then?" Clara smiled as her friend laughed and went to change into the intricate purple dress. Clara stood and moved to a mirror staring at herself and gently smooth the skirts on the emerald dress. She still couldn't believe it. Looking away she moved towards her bed to get the mask.

"Well, what do you think?" Hannah rushed back into Clara's room with her skirts swirling all around her. The gown was styled much the same as Clara's except in the gathers were tiny diamonds that glinted and sparked in the light. The bodice had intricate and very detailed white embroidery patterns, with small diamonds expertly placed here and there. The mask she wore was the same purple as her dress and covered in the same delicate embroidery.

"Hannah, you look...beautiful!" Clara stared at her friend. Hannah had pulled her bright red hair up into a simple, but very fashionable style at the nape of her neck. "I'm sure it'll be you who the prince won't stop looking at tonight."

Laughing Hannah shook her head and grabbed Clara's arm. "Well between the two of us, he'll hardly notice anyone else! Come on!"

Norah greeted them at the bottom of the stares with an unhappy look on her face. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she looked from one to the other like a mother looking for a confession on who broke her vase. "And you've talked to Mr. Andrews about this?"

Clarabell looked at Hannah. Her friend had said she would handle it, but the expression on her friend's face now told Clara she hadn't handled it all.

"I-um-I thought he didn't need to know. I mean he doesn't own us now does he?" Hannah tried to push past Norah to get to the door, but the woman wouldn't budge.

"Hannah! I will burn a turkey before I will let you through this door without talking to Mr. Andrews first! Go! Now!" Hannah tried again to get past the woman, but Norah wouldn't have it.

"Fine! Look! Here I go!" Turning on her heel Hannah marched right back upstairs and into Mr. Andrews study without knocking.

Norah continued to stand there with a smug look on her face, staring at the door Hannah had went through. Clara couldn't figure out what the problem would be, but she didn't dare ask. Norah seemed to be in the mood to pick a fight and Clara knew well to steer clear of her on those days. Patiently Clara stood staring down at the wood floor until she started to hear loud voices from upstairs. Panicked she looked to Norah who was still staring with a bemused smirk on her lips and then up to the door. It was definitely Mr. Andrews yelling, but then she could tell the other was Hannah. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but whatever it was neither was happy.

Suddenly the door opened and Hannah came out rushing down the stairs. "Come on, Clara! Let's go-"

"Wait!" Mr. Andrews appeared in the doorway looking no happier than Hannah did, but Clara was relieved to see they both still looked to be in one unharmed piece.

Hannah stopped beside Clara and gave Norah a long, dark look before looking back upstairs. Mr. Andrews had disappeared back into his study.

"Are-are we still going?" Clara wasn't sure with all these unhappy faces what was going on.

"Yes." But that was all Hannah would say.

Mr. Andrews reappeared from the room and made his way downstairs holding a box in his hand. He aimed Hannah a sharp look as he past her, but his eyes were gentle when he stopped in front of Clara. "If you're going to a ball," he removed the lid from the box. "You're going to need decent shoes." Clara still had her plain black ones on that she always wore. She doubted anyone would be able to see her feet.

The first thing Clara noticed was the rose sitting on top of the shoes. Picking up the rose her eyes went to Mr. Andrews. "Is this..."

A small smile turned up his lips and he nodded. "It bloomed today. I was going to give it to you, but I could never find you. Here," Handing the box to Hannah he took the flower from her and ever so carefully fixed it in her hair. Smiling he let the back of his fingers gently brush against her jaw before dropping to his side. "You look beautiful, Clara..." But there was a touch of sadness in his voice as he said it.

Without thinking Clara grabbed his hand. "Come with us. We can find a mask if you really don't want people to see you, but...come with us, Mr. Andrews." Her light brown eyes searched his, she wanted him to go. Wanted him to finally leave the house. Wanted to see him happy. Wanted to dance with him...and for a moment he looked like he was going to agree.

"I can't, Clara..." He had to look away from her as he said it. He was positive the disappointment he would see would be too much. "A beast belongs in his cage. Not galavanting at balls for all to see."

"But you are not a beast..." The heartbreak in Clara's voice almost broke him. "Please..."

"No." Still not looking at her he grabbed the box from Hannah a little more harshly than he had meant to. He knew well if she asked one more time, his resolve would be gone and he couldn't do that. "Here. Put your shoes on."

Clara stared at him for a moment longer, feeling the bitter disappointment almost overwhelm her. She didn't know why she wanted to go so badly, but she did. Taking the box she picked up a shoe and momentarily the deep sadness faded away. "How..." Staring at the shoes she looked back up at him curiously. The silk shoes were a soft gold color with delicately embroidered roses. The very same pair she could remember defending the very first time she had met Gray. Only one pair had ever been made. One pair that Mr. Andrews had apparently purchased. But why? And what were the chances?

Hannah and Norah were scarcely breathing, but neither Clara nor Ian seemed to notice. Clara stared at up at him, feeling not for the first time that she knew him. But not as her employer...as someone else...but it was impossible. She trusted both men and neither would lie to her like that. There would be no reason...so it couldn't be...but...

"Do you like them?" Clara seemed not to hear him for a moment before she snapped out of her thoughts.

"They're beautiful..." Clara watched as he knelt down and slipped her shoes off her feet and the new ones on before standing back up. "Thank you..." Clara stared up at him, her eyes searching his, trying to put together pieces that just weren't fitting together properly.

Hannah seemed to snap out of it and suddenly looped her arm through Clara's. "Come on. The ball will be half over by the time we get there!" She gently tugged at Clarabell who hesitated.

"Are you sure you won't come with me-us?" She stared up at him still, willing him to say yes, but her heart sank as he determinedly shook his head. Nodding numbly she followed after Hannah and into the carriage that sat waiting for them. The whole ride there Hannah tried to idly chatter with her, but Clara was either silent, questioning what they had been yelling about in Mr. Andrews study, or again pressing for information about Gray. And of course Hannah just as stubbornly refused to answer any of her questions, so the two sat in a stony silence the entire ride.


	12. Chapter 12

((Wow, sorry for the long wait everyone! It was a crazy week, but I hope this rather long chapter makes up for it. :) Thank you again for all the reviews and favorites and alerts! It means more to me than you know that so many of you enjoy it :) ))

The moment the carriage had disappeared and Ian had turned to go inside, he felt a sharp smack to the back of his head. Whirling around he came face to face with Norah, her eyes practically on fire and her hands on her hips. "You idiot! Why didn't you tell her! The timing was perfect! You could have changed this whole nonsense tonight!"

A growl rumbled deep in his throat and he shook his head. "I can't tell her!" Turning he walked inside and tried escaping to the safety of his study, but Norah followed him.

"What?"

"She has to fall in love with me! Not him!" He needed a lock on his door. Better yet he needed a new cook and maid. Hannah was starting to overstep her bounds and Norah never stopped.

"She is in love with you!"

He turned toward the woman who was right behind him again. "She's in love with Gray! She's in love with a man whose face she's never seen. She's not in love with me." The more he said it, the quieter his voice got until he felt as if all his energy had been spent on those words alone. He loved her. There was nothing more he wanted than to tell her the truth, but it came with a risk he was unwilling to take. Besides...she didn't love him. She couldn't ever love him.

Sighing softly, he fell back into his chair, not looking at Norah.

"You're an idiot. She loves _you._ It was all over her face tonight!" Norah stood on the other side of his desk, there was little pity in her voice. She had known him a long time. She had long ago stopped feeling sorry for him. Which was partly the reason he never replaced her.

"Then she needs to say it to me. It won't work if she knows I'm him now." Exhausted, he rubbed a hand over his face. He had explained this to her before.

"Why not?"

"Because I'll have tricked her! She won't have loved me like this. She'll have loved Gray and loved me because I'm him." Dropping his hand he stared at the woman a moment and could easily see she didn't understand. She never did. "She needs to love me as a beast. Not as..." He let the sentence go, shaking his head. It wasn't worth explaining any more.

"I still don't understand." Norah's voice had lost some of it's edge as if she was done arguing with him and now for the first time, really wanted to understand the complexity of his curse.

"No. You don't. Don't worry, though. It's my burden, not yours." His eyes dropped to the paperwork in front of him. He needed to get some more work done, but he knew he couldn't focus now.

"It's everyone's burden...Ian..."

"Then leave, Norah. Just leave. You're not my prisoner." He looked up at the woman tiredly.

"You know I can't, brother..." Moving around the desk she kneeled before him and grabbed his hands. "I can't leave you alone."

"You've wasted your life trying to care for me. You wouldn't ever let me set up a house for you. You could've been a lady..."

Smiling she shook her head. "I like the kitchens. I like to cook. A lady doesn't cook. Besides I wouldn't say wasted...I have Miles..."

Ian scoffed and shook his head. "You won't even get properly engaged let alone marry..."

"If I married him, what ever would I do with you?"

"You're not a young woman any more, Norah, I thought you wanted children..."

She slapped at his knee and stood up. "Ian Grayson Andrews, you will not call me old! And we've decided to take in some of the children at the orphanage. Clara told me about Charlie. I'd rather help those poor things than have my own any way."

"Norah...you know what I-"

"Break the curse, Ian. Then we'll talk about my wedding." She started to leave but paused at the door and looked back once more at her brother. "She loves you, you know. Stop pulling her in and pushing her away." Hesitating a moment longer she then headed back down to the kitchens.

Ian sat there quietly fidgeting with his pen, feeling both exhausted and wide awake at the exact same time.

* * *

Despite her sudden rather sullen mood, Clara couldn't help but let out a small gasp as the castle came into view. Anyone could always see it from afar, but now as they were getting closer she could see every brick that had been laid and the elegant banners that bore the kingdom's crest. There were many carriages lined up, letting their passengers down at the grand front entrance. She could make out so many ladies in their fine, beautiful dresses. And men looking dashing in their newly purchased clothes. A small bubble of nervous excitement began growing in the pit of her stomach. She was excited to see all the finery and be in the castle, but nervous that it would be immediately apparent that she didn't belong there.

"Come on, Clara." Hannah stepped down, out of the carriage and Jensen offered his arm to help Clara. As she stepped down she looked up at the towering building in front of her. There were so many windows and bricks and it was so...tall. She felt like an ant next to a tree.

Following Hannah inside, Clara's eyes darted everywhere trying to take in everything. From the other ladies pretty dresses to the intricate gold candle holders lining the walls. There were gorgeous crystal and painted vases full of vivid colored flowers everywhere filling the ballroom with a light, but sweet floral scent. Clara hadn't even ever seen more than half of the variety of flowers in them. The floor was an exotic marble, Hannah told her, and her pretty new shoes clicked softly against it as she walked. The ceiling was even painted with clouds and cherubs. And it was so high! She hadn't any idea how high it was, but she was sure Mr. Andrews whole house could have fit inside and still not have touched the ceiling!

"Stop looking like a country bumpkin, Clara!" Hannah nudged her elbow into Clara's side and grinned at her.

Clara turned her face back down from staring a the ceiling a light flush starting up her cheeks as she ducked her head, embarrassed. "I've never seen anything like it, Hannah. I'm sorry."

"Come on. Let's get some punch. Maybe they'll have some of those little cakes I've heard about too!" Grabbing her arm Clara dragged her towards a servant who held a tray of glittering glasses filled with red liquid.

"Dare I say, I've found two pretty ladies without a dance partner?" Just as Hannah grabbed two glasses, a tall blonde haired man stepped up next to them. He wore a crimson mask, but it was easy to see he was a very handsome man.

Hannah giggled and flirtatiously batted her eyelashes at him while Clara simply blushed and tried looking anywhere else. Hannah at least had the good graces to respond, "I'm afraid our dance cards are getting rather full..." Clara looked at Hannah, was she really going to leave her already?

"Then I must ask fast. Would you give me this dance? Or am I too late?" Grinning he offered his hand to Hannah who barely batted an eyelash at Clara. She handed both of the drinks to Clara and laid her hand in the man's.

"You are just in time, sir." Hannah swept off with him towards the dance floor and Clara just stared after her in disbelief. They had barely even arrived and already being asked to dance? She felt rather abandoned standing there with the two punch glasses and very out of place. Setting both of the glasses back down on the tray, she gathered her skirts and deftly made her way through the crowd to the edges of the room where there were less people. She didn't belong here.

Stopping by a pillar she turned and looked back at the crowd. She should have at least kept her drink. At least she could have looked like she was just a bit parched and needed air. Now she just looked like what she was. An overwhelmed, dressed up maid who didn't belong. Sighing softly she glanced around the room again. She didn't know what to do. Didn't know what the protocol was. She didn't know anyone here besides Hannah and Hannah had left her. So now what? Did one just stand around waiting to be asked to dance? There were groups of people everywhere talking, but hardly any other ladies standing by themselves. This was such a bad idea. Such a-

"So, did you run out of there like that because you saw a mouse or is there some over eager, poor man whose chasing after you to dance and whose affections you don't return?" The deep male voice made Clara jump and whirl around to meet the bemused, but gentle blue eyes of yet another blonde haired man in a rich purple silk mask. His clothing was clearly made of highly expensive material and highly crafted, but it was simple and not overdone.

Blushing furiously at both the way she had reacted and his question, her eyes dropped to the floor as she stuttered around trying to find words. "Well, I-um-well-you-see-I-"

"Or perhaps you just don't know these silly, new dances and you came here to escape being asked?" He smiled kindly at her and Clara was grateful for the less humiliating excuse.

"Yes! Yes. I'm afraid I haven't quite learned these new ones yet..." Clara hadn't any idea if these were new or not, but if he said they were they must be. And it wasn't quite a lie. She didn't know the steps.

"Ah. I thought so. And a pretty little lady like you would most definitely be asked the moment one of these men noticed you did not have a dance parter." He paused just long enough that Clara could feel the panic rising in her once again as she started to scramble for a good reply to that. "Unfortunately, I don't have as good of an excuse as you for being back here. I know these dances." His blue eyes left her momentarily to glance around them and when his eyes found hers again his voice dropped to a whisper and he took a step closer to her. "But, you see, I am quite painfully shy. It's hard for me to ask just anyone to dance."

Clara stared at him, unsure if she should believe him. He certainly didn't seem shy. "You-you are?"

"Oh, yes. The risk of rejection, you know. It simply shatters me. When a lady says no I have this overwhelming urge to run sobbing from the room like a child."

She somehow couldn't imagine him running, sobbing from anywhere. "Really?"

"Yes, and you see, since you now know of my little aliment, you can not in good conscience deny me now." His face was so sober and serious that Clara was having a difficult time discerning if he was joking or not.

"I can't?"

"No, because I'm going to ask you to dance and you will bestow your exceedingly great kindness upon me and spare my rather delicate feelings and accept. Because you do not want to see me crushed and ruin my otherwise good reputation... Would you?" A small smile was on his lips now and he offered her his arm.

Clara didn't know what to do. Didn't know if he was being serious. Didn't know if she should take his arm. She didn't know how to dance these dances. And she had this feeling he was playing with her somehow. "I-I...sir, what about my delicate feelings? I don't know these-these new dances..."

His smile broadened and he shook his head. "Worry not, my pretty lady, I know them. Follow my lead and both of our delicate feelings can be spared."

What could she do? He was offering her his arm, had played up to her better nature, and could she in good conscience deny him? This was Hannah's fault! If she hadn't left she wouldn't be here now! Looking up at him she took in a deep breath and laid her slightly trembling hand on his arm. She was going to make a fool of herself. In front of this strange man and this whole room of strangers.

"You are very kind. I am in your debt now, my lady." Grinning he led her towards the wall and began walking around the outskirts of the group.

Confused on why they were not just heading towards the dance floor, she glanced up at him and then around, trying to figure out what was going on. "Where-where are we going?"

He looked at her for a brief moment as if he was trying to read her before a mischievous sparkle seemed to glitter in his eyes. "Have you met the prince yet, my lady?"

Shaking her head, she glanced around again. She hadn't seen anyone of the royal family yet, but then she hadn't really been looking for them either. "No. I haven't..."

"Well, I must introduce you to him first. I hear he's arrogant and self-centered and needs to meet every beautiful lady in the room. I thought we should get that rather unpleasant task out of the way first." Was that protocol? Clara had no idea. She supposed it made sense. For everyone to first meet him before dancing. That way the prince could choose his dance partners first and not have to fight off the commoners.

She followed him around to a pair of thrones where the king and queen sat, watching their subjects dance and occasionally talking briefly to those who came up to them. But she didn't see the prince.

"Bran! There you are! Please tell me you are finally ready so we can start this properly?" The Queen looked from the man to Clara curiously. The man, Bran apparently, dropped into a bow and Clara lowered into a curtsey, again finding herself nervously looking everywhere but at the king and queen.

"Yes. Tell the band to start it."

The King raised his arm and a silence fell over the room as the music stopped and the people quieted. Moments later the orchestra started, but the chatter from everyone in the room did not. Confused Clara turned with Bran towards the crowd. What was going on? Where was the prince and why was it so quiet all of a sudden?

As they turned Clara was stunned to see the crowd had parted a small path from the thrones to the center of the now cleared dance floor. Every single person's eyes were on them. On her. She could see their assessing stares and she felt herself starting to panic. Frightened her eyes left them to look up at her dance partner barely understanding what was going on and not at all liking the direction this was going in.

He was looking at her, grinning still, and swept an arm towards the empty dance floor. "Shall we?"

No! NO! NO! The last place on Earth she wanted to be was dancing with him with everyone staring at him. "I-I don-don't understand...what are we doing?"

Grinning all the while, he placed a gentle yet firm hand on her lower back and pressed her towards the deserted dance floor. "I told you we have to get this rather pesky business of introducing you to the prince out of the way," he murmured and led her towards the center of the dance floor. Once there he released her and stood before her. Winking he bowed to her and she managed a shaky curtsey in return all the while still staring at him, scared out of her wits. On cue to the music he gathered her into proper dancing position, placing her hand on his shoulder, grasping the other in his, and settling his other arm around her waist. "Now we shall dance alone for three fourths of the song, then we shall invite everyone else to join us for the last fourth. As is tradition. I will guide you and in that gown of yours no one will see your feet. And if you trod on my feet I promise I will not yell too loudly."

Clara barely had time to wrap her mind around his words before he was sweeping her off and moving in time to the music, partly dragging her along with him. Her feet couldn't keep up and for every step he took, she took three just to keep up. She felt clumsy and more like a big clumsy dog than a graceful swan. She couldn't look at him so she stared down at their feet, watching them trip over themselves. She looked like a fool. And everyone was watching. She _was_ such a fool.

He must have sensed her unease because he dipped his head close to her ear, a smile in his soft, gentle voice. "You are doing well, my pretty lady. And I thought you didn't know this dance..."

Clara looked up at him with wide eyes. He couldn't be serious. He was surely making fun of her. "I am sorry, sir, you should have chosen someone else. I am making a fool of us both."

He shook his head. "Nonsense. You are doing wonderful. However, I am afraid your dance card will most definitely be full by the time we stop. Every single man in the room is staring at you."

Clara couldn't bare to make herself look instead her eyes went back to her feet and she forced herself to take a deep breath. "I daresay, sir, if both of our reputations are to be spared you better stop mentioning the people staring at us." She could feel herself step on his foot just then, but instead of yelling, he laughed. "Why are we dancing alone? Who are you?"

He looked at her for a long minute, but there was no judgment in his gaze, just curiosity. "I most humbly regret of having the displeasure of introducing you to Prince Brandon. I'd bow as is custom after introducing one's noble self to a pretty lady, but I find we're rather preoccupied at the moment..." Grinning they twirled over by the crowd before making their way back to the center of the room. "And you? What can I call you?"

Clara's gaze shot up to him, studying him. She was such a fool. Of course he was the prince! What an idiot she was! What he must think of her and all her foolish questions! She should've known who he was from the very beginning! Her cheeks darkened and she looked away from him, ashamed of herself. She didn't know. She didn't know the first thing about balls and what they were like! And that the prince danced alone and that he mingled in with everyone and looked like everyone else! She didn't belong here. Not at all. "Oh, you're majesty! I am so-so sorry! I-I didn't recog-"

The grin slipped into an understanding smile and he momentarily broke their dancing position to bring a hand under her chin and gently nudge her face up to meet his eyes before his arm wrapped back around his waist. "Hush, my lady. I know you didn't recognize me. There is nothing to be ashamed of. I barely recognize more than twenty people in this room, shall I be ashamed of that to?"

Clarabell met his eyes momentarily but she was having a hard time looking at him longer than a few short seconds at a time. "But-but you are the prince you wouldn't-"

"Then that is an even greater travesty. As a prince I should know every person in my kingdom as they are my future responsibility. How can I rule over people and not know them?" He paused and the bright smile coming back to his lips after a moment. "Do you see why it's rather pesky having to introduce myself as a prince? There is just too much pomp and circumstance around Prince Brandon. Too many expectations. Can I just be Bran instead?"

It was hard looking at him as he was before she knew who he was. She still felt like the biggest fool ever born, but the way he looked at her and spoke to her...he didn't treat as if she were an idiot. He seemed to accept it as if it were usual for a lady to attend one of his balls and not know his face. But she knew well it was not usual. Unable to find words, she simply nodded, daring to look at him briefly again.

"Good." The easy grin was back as he watched her. "Now, tell me, what's your name?"

She almost gave her name, but stopped just before she opened her mouth. Clarabell was a maid. A prince shouldn't dance with a maid. It didn't seem right or proper. And while he may have been understanding this far, surely if he found out she had tricked him with her borrowed fancy dress into thinking she was a lady when she wasn't, he wouldn't be happy. "Rose."

"Rose? Like the flower in your hair? What a pretty name." They danced a few moments longer before he slowed them to a stop and dropped the arm from her waist. He still held onto her hand however as he turned to face the still staring crowd. "My lords, ladies, and friends, will you please join me and Lady Rose in finishing the first dance of the night." He turned towards her and gathered her back in his arms as they were joined by the rest of the couples. "My lovely lady Rose, I'm afraid those pesky princely duties mean I must mingle with the other ladies here for a time...but will you save another dance for me? I quite enjoyed having you as a dance partner and you must remember my ever so delicate feelings if you say no..."

There was something rather charming about him. For as big of a fool that she felt, he easily put her at ease every time. Whenever something threatened to crush her and send her running, he managed to find the right words to calm her nerves again. A small smile turned up her lips, unable to look at his grinning face and not smile back. "Not if we are to dance with every single pair of eyes watching us again, my lord. Your delicate feelings aren't worth that..."

Bran chuckled and momentarily sent her a shocked and pained look. "You'd rather see me running from the room crying like a newborn babe instead of dancing alone with me again? I'm hurt..."

"You're a prince. I think your reputation will survive even that. Mine on the other hand-"

"Nonsense! It is my most honorable obligation to protect your reputation. Nothing, my pretty lady Rose, will sully it so long as I am breathing and able to protect it." Clara couldn't help but laugh softly. He was too much. "You will dance with me again? I will do everything in my power to make sure everyone's eyes are not solely on you..."

Smiling, she looked up at him for a moment before nodding. "Of course, my lord. How can I say no to the prince?"

"Bran. Please. Call me Bran." As the song ended he held on to her a moment longer than necessary before obviously reluctantly letting her go, but not before he brought her hand up to his lips and gently pressed them to the back of it. "Until later then, my pretty lady."

Curtseying Clara blushed a pretty pink and nodded. Winking at her he turned and left, disappearing into a crowd of swarming ladies all wanting his attention now that Lady Rose no longer had it. She could hardly believe it. She had danced with the prince! Perhaps this was all simply a dream she'd wake from shortly. Maybe it wasn't real. The prince really hadn't spoken and danced with her. Hadn't kissed the back of her hand. Because it didn't feel all that real.

She started to turn to try and find her way back to the edge of the crowd but she caught a glimpse of a purple dress making her way over. Maybe Hannah wouldn't abandon her again with the chance of the prince coming back.


	13. Chapter 13

"Oh my stars! Clara! The prince!" Hannah was practically jumping with excitement. "How'd it happen?"

Clara smiled at her friend and started to tell her the story when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning she found a dark haired man smiling politely at her from behind a dark green mask. "Would you give me the honor of this dance, Lady Rose?"

Clara stared at him for a second, unsure what to say.

"Of course she will!" Clara looked at Hannah with wide eyes but her friend just grinned and pushed her at the man who took her hand and guided her back to the dancing couples. While the man tried to idly chat with her Clara stuttered around more than she had with Bran. She was nervous. She wasn't used to the attention and she was still partially unsure if they were going to accuse her of being an imposter.

Eventually the dance ended and Clara tried to make her way back to Hannah only to be pulled back to the dance floor by yet another man. On and on it went. After each dance another pulled her back. Each one tried to strike up a conversation and while Clara finally started to relax it wasn't all that easy to talk to them. They were polite for the most part, but mostly boring at the same time. She was slowly realizing she had little in common with any of these men and their wealthy lifestyles. And she was quickly growing more and more tired. Her strength still wasn't what it had been before she had gotten sick and only a couple hours in she was ready to find her bed.

"Please, sir. I need to get a sip of punch. Maybe we can dance later?" Clara offered a smile to some red headed, slightly pudgy man who looked slightly offended by her polite decline to dance, but Clara didn't care. She needed some room to breathe. Finding a servant Clara headed in his direction while she glanced around for Hannah. She spotted her friend dancing again with the blonde haired man who she had abandoned Clara for when they had first arrived. Well, she probably wouldn't be leaving any time soon then.

Sighing softly she picked up a glass from a tray the servant was holding and offered him a smile of thanks as she sipped at the sweet liquid. She glanced around as she enjoyed the drink wondering vaguely how they all did it. How could they dance all night long? Her feet were already starting to hurt. And she was so tired.

Her soft brown eyes scanned over the crowd lazily. There were so many pretty dresses and-...they looked familiar... her eyes paused on a trio of women not all that far away. Though their faces were half masked Clara could recognize them anywhere. Her stepmother, Eliza, and were here. She could feel her throat start to close up as she watched them. No. She couldn't hurt her now. Not here...but her stepmother knew her. Would recognize her.

Suddenly her stepmother looked up and right at her. Clara couldn't breath as she quickly looked away and started to move through the crowd. She needed to leave, needed to get out of here. She made it to the edge of the crowd and was just about to dart around a table of cakes when she heard someone close behind her.

"Running again are we?" Of course he'd find her now. Her luck was never good.

Taking a deep breath she turned and looked up at the prince. "I came to look at the flowers." She motioned to the vase on the table. "I've never seen such blooms before."

He smiled and moved next to her, looking at the vase and back at her. "They are beautiful aren't they?"

"Yes." Nervously she glanced back over her shoulder before up at him. "Do you know what they are called?"

"Orchids I believe." He shrugged. "My mother has all sorts of exotic flowers in her gardens and greenhouse. These are a new addition. They-"

"Your highness!" Clara froze at the voice behind them. The same voice that haunted every nightmare that she had. The one she thanked every star to not hear every day any more.

Turning the prince glanced at the woman who interrupted him, a polite, dull smile aimed at her stepmother's way. "Yes?" Clara turned as well keeping her eyes mostly downcast, praying her stepmother didn't recognize her.

"Your highness I am Eleanor Roark, my husband was the late Sir Andrew Roark." Clara knew he had been the father of her two girls and a drunkard. "These are my daughters Eliza and Olive." She stepped aside to reveal her two girls. Their dresses were overdone with gathers and pearls and gemstones, but their hair was pinned up in gentle curls. Apparently Anne knew how to wield an iron as well.

"It is a pleasure to meet you all." Bran kept the same distant smile as he bowed slightly at the waist to each of them before motioning towards Rose. "Ladies, this is my friend Rose." He shot her a genuine smile before it faded somewhat as he looked back at the trio.

"Rose?" Eleanor's eyes fixed on her. Studying her. "Rose what?"

Bran's lips flickered momentarily into a frown at the somewhat rudely phrased question, but his eyes fixed gently on Clara all the same. They were all staring at her. Waiting for her last name. What could she tell them? "My-"

"You seem very familiar. Have we met before?" The woman took a step towards her, her cool assessing eyes searching Clara's. She knew. Her Stepmother knew. The panic started to rise in her.

"Mother, she looks like-" Eliza started to say, but was cut off.

"Oh! The next dance is starting! Forgive us, ladies, but Lady Rose has promised me this dance and her card is so full, I dare not miss it!" Bran pressed a hand against her back and pushed her away from her stepfamily. He had seen her eyes widen and her hands shaking in the folds of her dress.

He led her as far from her family as he could while still finding a rather uncrowded space in the dancing circle. Settling his arm around her waist and her hand in his they danced for a few long moments his light blue eyes checking who was around them and making sure the trio was no one where in sight. "You look frightened to death. Are you all right?"

Clara still felt like she couldn't breath properly. She could still feel her body trembling and she was sure he could as well. "I'm sorry. I-I..." She looked down at her shoes not knowing what to say and feeling like she should just run back to Mr. Andrews' house now. She needed to leave.

"Shhh" Stopping, he gently cupped her cheek in his hand and forced her to meet his eyes. "You are all right. I'm not going to let them hurt you."

Clara let out a shuddering breath and nodded. Closing her eyes momentarily to try and stop herself shaking, she opened them only to meet his again. "I have to tell you something. I lied. My name isn't Rose. It's Clarabell. Clara."

For a few heartbeats he simply stared at her, his eyebrows drawing in confused. "You...lied? Why?"

Clara bit her lip and tried to look away, embarrassed yet again, but he wouldn't let her. "I got nervous. I thought-"

"She's a maid, your highness." Eleanor was right behind the prince and there was another of her smug looks on her face as she stared at her stepdaughter. "More of an indentured servant really." She had found them. Moving around the prince she stepped up close beside her stepdaughter. "She isn't even paid. She is owned." Clara saw her stepmother's hand move and she winced expecting to be hit, but instead her mask was ripped off her face. "She doesn't deserve to be here with us. She is-"

Clara wanted to run and hide. She could feel the heat burning on her cheeks and those around them staring. The whole room had yet to notice the disturbance but those close by most certainly had heard everything. Glancing around the room, she started to look for the best escape, but suddenly the prince's arm was around her waist, holding her tightly as if he could read her mind. "My lady! That is enough!" Although his voice was quiet each word was full of seething authority. "Every single person in this kingdom has a right to be here tonight." He managed to maneuver himself between Clara and her stepmother, but his arm never left her waist. "You, however, have lost your welcome. You will apologize and then you will leave, immediately." The definitive tone in his voice was a quality he seemed to have learned from his father. There was no room for question.

Her stepmother glanced from the prince to Clara and back, clearly not wanting to do any such thing and shocked that a prince would stand up for a maid. So instead she looked straight at the prince. "I'm sorry." Then she turned on her heel, found her daughters, and disappeared toward the door to leave.

Bran turned back towards Clara, his eyes gentle as he surveyed the damage done. "Are you all right? I'm sorry." Momentarily he turned away from her again and picked up the mask her stepmother had dropped.

"I-I think I should go I need to go I-"

"Why don't we go to the gardens? Get some fresh air?" He paused, waiting for her to consent before leading her towards a pair of glass doors and out into the cool night air.

* * *

He led her along the stony path to a bench beside some blooming lilac bushes where they both sat down. Clara sat for a few moments not looking at him, just quietly, breathing, steadying herself before she spoke. "I'm sorry I-"

"No. You have nothing to be sorry for." Smiling he paused just a moment before his eyes looked into hers again. "...but I take it you know her?"

Silently Clara nodded. "She is...my stepmother."

"And you work for her?"

Clara shook her head. "I used to. Until she sold me."

"She sold you?" The shock on his face clearly told her he hadn't heard of such a thing, but that was no surprise to Clara. Why would he?

"Yes." Falling silent she looked at the lilac bush beside her. "I am sorry that I lied..."

"I can understand why you did with people like your stepmother...it's Clara then?"

She nodded and glanced at him only to see him smiling again. She hadn't ever heard much about him before, but he seemed like a good man. He certainly smiled a lot. And he was very handsome.

"Tell me about the rose in your hair. I didn't know anyone outside the palace grew them." He switched the topic and for that Clara was more than grateful.

"My mother used to grow them. It's from one of her bushes."

"Used to?"

"She died a long time ago." Clara fell quiet and studied her hands in the dark. She could barely remember her mother any more.

"My mother has the gardener plant roses too, would you like to see them?" Clara nodded. They stood and Bran led her through the gardens with only the moonlight and stars to guide their path. "It used to only be red ones, but last year they planted seeds for yellow and pink ones. And you're in luck they just started blooming yesterday." They stopped by a pair of bushes with vibrant pink and yellow blooms and Clara couldn't help a soft gasp.

"They are beautiful! I've never seen a yellow rose before!" Leaning in she ran a finger delicately along a petal, a small smile lighting up her lips.

"Here." Reaching into the bush he carefully picked out a flower, very mindful of the thorns. "Be careful of the thorns."

Smiling she took it and brought the flower to her nose to inhale the sweet fragrant. "Your mother's garden is beautiful. She has so many flowers. How did she learn about all of them?"

Bran shrugged and looked around them at all the blooms. "It is well known that my mother enjoys the garden so when foreigners pay a visit they tend to bring her exotic ones as gifts. Some of them thrive and grow, others don't."

"Do you enjoy the garden, your highness?"

Grinning he gave her a pointed look and nudged her with his elbow. "Bran, remember? And yes, I enjoy being out here. It's peaceful, usually." They talked quietly a little longer about the garden and flowers before they moved onto a new subject. Clara had no idea how much time past, but it was easy talking to Bran about anything and she found herself no longer tired. He was interesting and smart and even though he tended to latch onto a subject and talk at length about things Clara had no idea about, he managed to explain well enough to make her understand. She was sure almost every question she had must have sounded like curious child with a thousand easy questions, but he never once made her feel like a burden or a half-witted country bumpkin.

* * *

Clara laughed and stared at him as if he grew a second head. "There is a place where it is winter almost all year? I don't believe you! It is not fair for you to tease me like that!"

"I'm not teasing!" Bran was laughing and shaking his head. "It's true! It is a place very far North and we haven't found many people living there but-"

"Well I would think not! What would they eat? Snow?"

"Fish! They have lots and lots of fish."

Clara laughed again and shook her head, clearly having a hard time believing such a place existed. "I'm afraid, your majesty, that I will only believe such a place exists if I see it."

"Clara," The grin fell from his lips and he looked at her with a straight and exasperated face. "Bran, please. I'm called your highness and majesty and prince and all the other silly titles all day long. That title comes with so many obligations that...I like being just Bran sometimes. Especially with friends." A slow, mischievous smile grew on his lips and that sparkle came back to his eyes. "Now say it or I will punish you."

Clara raised her eyebrows at him, unafraid. Although she had only just met him tonight, she knew him well enough already to feel safe with him. He wouldn't hurt her. "Oh? And what ever will you do?"

He seemed to think for a few long moments clearly not having expected her to question his authority. "Tickle you. I have found tickling ladies is indeed quite a punishment."

"Have you? Well, I'm not a lady."

"You are a lady. You just don't have a fancy title."

She looked at him for a few long seconds trying to gauge how serious he was. It was strange hearing him defend her so. To hear how much he cared what others thought of her and what she thought of herself. All she knew about the royal family was that they raised taxes and never lowered them. They had orphanages over following with children and refused to build another. There were poor wandering the streets that they refused to feed, yet they had more food than the town could ever eat in their pantries. "Well, I don't believe you. You are too much of a gentleman to tickle a poor little lady...your majesty." She grinned at him playfully and squealed as he reached over, his fingers wiggling into her sides. "No! Stop!" Laughing she stood and took off running.

"Come back here! I warned you!" Laughing himself he followed after her through the gardens, purposefully letting her get ahead of him for a short distance.

She had gathered up her skirts in her hands, but she could feel her shoes threatening to slip off her feet. The pretty shoes weren't meant to be ran in. She could feel them slipping around on her feet and eventually one did slip completely off, but she didn't dare stop. "Wait! Please! I lost a shoe!" Laughing she continued to try and get away, but suddenly she felt him catch her arm and whirl her around. Her body crashed against his chest as his arms tightly wrapped around her, both of them still in fits of laughter.

"I got you now!"

The laughter slowly subsided as he stared down at her in the moonlight, his eyes bright and hardly showing any signs of being affected by the run. Clara, however could feel her cheeks burn, but she wasn't sure if that was from running in a dress and the shoes or from the way he was looking at her just then. He hadn't let her go and his darkened blue eyes watched hers before scanning over her face and lingering on her lips. Clara felt paralyzed under his eyes and she couldn't do anything as he slowly lowered his head and gently pressed his lips to hers.

Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips lingered on hers and even after the soft touch was pulled back it took a few heartbeats for her eyes to open again. She hadn't ever been kissed before. Not like that. And part of was having trouble getting over the fact that he was a prince and she was a maid. And another part of her wanted him to do it again. And yet another wanted her to run. But she simply stood there, trapped in his arms, staring up at him with her lips slightly parted and barely breathing. She didn't know what she wanted him to do. Kiss her again or let her go. Neither seemed like a good option and she desperately wanted him to do both.

"Clara..." His hold on her softened and a hand came up to gently tuck a stray curl back behind her ear. "I've never met anyone like you..." His voice was barely above a whisper and he lowered his head once again to brush his lips once...twice...three times before deepening the kiss.

Clara had no idea what she was doing, but she followed his lead. Her own lips seemed to know instinctively what to do. Sighing softly she felt herself lean into him and the kiss. It felt nice to be held by him, to be kissed by him. She was drawn to him in a way she never been had before with anyone she could remember. And he was the prince! It was unimaginable that she should be there. Kissing him. Being kissed by him. When she was a maid. And he was a prince. And she was a maid. She was a maid. A maid kissing a prince. It sounded crazy. It was crazy. What did she think would happen after this? That he would propose marriage and she would live happily with him for the rest of their lives? She was a maid.

Clara could feel a sinking feeling starting in the pit of her stomach and her stepmother's words ringing in her ears. She wasn't even just a maid. She was owned. She was indebted to Mr. Andrews. Mr. Andrews... his marred and twisted face popped into her head and the memory of him caring for her all those weeks while she was sick...of caring for her mother's roses...of kissing her forehead... Gasping Clara pulled away from Bran as she was overtaken by memories of her employer. She couldn't do this. She couldn't feel this...couldn't-

"Clara, are you all right? I'm sorry I over stepped my bounds I-"

"No! No," Clara took in a deep breath and shook her head looking up at him. "I-I just can't do this I..." Shaking her head she looked away. She didn't understand her feelings. Not for Bran. Not Mr. Andrews. Not for anyone.

"Clara...it's okay it's-" but Clara didn't hear the rest of whatever he had to say as the church bells started to chime the hour.

"What-what time is it?" Stepping away from him, she frantically she looked up at him. She had promised Sarah she would be back.

Confused and slightly worried looking Bran shook his head. "I-I don't know. Midnight, maybe?"

"I have to go!" Clara started to take off back to the castle, but Bran caught her arm.

"Please, Clara, wait! I'm sorry if I-"

"Bran, please, I need to go! I...need to go!" Shaking her head, Bran took one last look at her eyes and released her. Clara didn't waste another second before gathering up her skirts and running back towards the castle, forgetting all about her missing shoe.


	14. Chapter 14

Clara had quickly found Hannah and had half dragged her out of the castle and back to the carriage, not listening at all to her friend protest. But once they were seated inside the carriage and Hannah had a good look at Clara, she settled down.

"Clara...what's wrong? What happened?" Worried, Hannah reached across the carriage and grabbed her friends hands. "Your as white as a ghost!"

Clara shook her head frantically and didn't say a word. She didn't know what to say and she didn't trust whatever words might come out of her mouth. She didn't understand what she was feeling or what she had felt and she really just wanted to curl up in her bed and never leave.

"Clara... You need to tell me what's going on. Did the prince...did he...do something to you?"

"No!" The word was almost a shout and Clara took in a long, shaky breath, trying to calm herself down. "No. Please, Hannah. I don't want to talk. I just want to get this dress back to Sarah. Please."

Hannah nodded and didn't say another word the rest of the way, but she didn't look very happy about it and her watchful eyes never left Clara.

Clara managed to return the dress to Sarah without saying very much to either her or Thom, though Thom could sense something was wrong. She told them both she was just very tired and that she would tell them both about it some other time and then fled back to the safety of the carriage where Hannah waited.

She told that same excuse to both Mr. Andrews and Norah when they returned home to find both of them still waiting up. She didn't dare look at either of them and was upstairs in the comfort of her own room before they could barely bid her good night. She needed to sleep. Needed to stop thinking about Bran and Mr. Andrews and the ball and her stepmother and the impossible. She needed to just forget about it. All of it. And sleep.

Placing the rose that had been in her hair gently in a vase, she placed the single prettily embroidered shoe she still had in it's box and hid it under her bed. It was a shame she had lost the other one, but then she didn't see a need to ever wear them again. She was a maid. She didn't wear such pretty shoes. Then she changed into her night clothes and climbed into bed willing herself, still, to simply forget the night and all the feelings that had come with it.

* * *

The next morning Clara did her best to avoid everyone and go on about her old chores. She managed short ended responses to any questions about the night and thought for a few short hours that everyone would simply leave her be. That was until she was in the middle of dusting in Mr. Andrews studying and her employer walked in, shutting the door behind him.

"I'll be out in just a moment, Mr. Andrews."

"No, Clara. I need to speak with you."

Clara set down the silver paper weight she had just dusted around and turned to look at him curiously. "Now, sir? I still need to run to the market before it closes up."

"Yes, Clara. Now. I've told Hannah to take care of the market run." Mr. Andrews looked unreadable as he moved around his desk and sat in his chair. "Come and sit, Clara."

Clara hesitated unsure of what he wanted to talk about and not at all liking the direction this was going. She didn't like the closed door or the way her employer looked so guarded. Setting her dusting cloth down, Clara slowly made her way to a chair and cautiously perched herself on the very end of it, watching him warily.

He didn't say anything for a long while, he simply sat there and watched her and she started to feel more and more nervous. It was a long minute before he finally sighed softly. "I don't mean to make you nervous-"

"I'm not-"

"You're pulling at your sleeves. You do that when you're nervous."

"Oh..." Clara had never even noticed herself doing it and immediately she clasped her hands together in her lap.

He watched her silently a moment longer before shaking his head, slightly frustrated at himself. "That's just it. I know things about you, Clara, that you don't even know about yourself, I-" He stopped himself again and picked up a pen, fiddling with it in his hands, and trying to get rid of all the energy he felt built up inside of him.

Clara simply stared at him, unsure of what was going on. What he meant. "Sir, I don't-"

"No. I'm sorry. I'm not making much sense. I just...I don't know how to say what I want to say to you..."

"Oh..." She lightly bit her lip and silently stared back at him. He looked slightly...undone. He always seemed so sure of himself. Confident in what he was doing and saying, but now..._he_ was the nervous one. Why? What was going on?

"Hannah told me about what happened last night..."

"Oh..." Clara's eyes dropped to her lap. So that was what this was all about. She didn't want to talk about it. She thought she had made that quite clear to everyone.

"Clara, did the prince h-"

"The prince didn't hurt me, sir. Not at all. I just...it was a ball, it was a nice night, but that's all it was. One night. Hardly different from any other besides that I danced...with the prince." She looked directly at Mr. Andrews, calm and trying her best to end the discussion about it here and now. "The night is over. I didn't realize everyone wanted every detail of what happened on one night."

Mr. Andrews stared back at her, searching her eyes, trying to figure out why she wasn't gushing over every minute like Hannah was. He had expected her to come back full of stories, but she had simply ran off to her room. And after Hannah told him about the prince dancing with her, disappearing with her...well... "I see...but, Clara...if something _did_ happen, you know, we will help you. I will do anything necessary... for you."

"Nothing happened. But I appreciate your concern..." Clara managed a small smile. "Is that all? I know Norah wanted some help sweeping today as well..." She started to stand, but Mr. Andrews held up a hand so she reluctantly sat back down.

"Not quite, Clara. There's something else I wanted to talk to you about..."

She could feel the worry start to gnaw at her again and she started feeling tired even though morning was barely even over. What more did he want to say? Surely nothing more about the ball. Please. Nothing more about the ball.

Again he seemed to be unable to find the words he wanted, but Clara patiently sat, waiting for him to string together what he wanted to say. He dropped the pen and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and intertwining his mangled fingers. He made a steeple with his fingers and pressed his lips against them as he thought, still watching her. Whatever he was trying to say, Clara was starting to wonder if she even wanted to know. If he was having this much trouble saying it, surely it wasn't good.

"Sir-"

"Do you remember when you asked me how I became like this?"

Clara's eyebrows drew together and she straightened slightly. "Yes..." He had clearly been upset with her for weeks afterward even though he still had done his best to entertain her while she was on bed rest.

"I am ready to tell you the story..."


	15. Chapter 15

((Ian's curse story took forever for me to figure out. Haha, I wrote four or five different versions but none of them really felt right. I hope you like this one, if not let me know too. :) I was trying so hard to tie in the same witch from my other story, The Raven, so you'd get a bit more of her background and I've always thought of Ian being the womanizing sort in his past, but it just wasn't working. Ian wasn't cooperating. He didn't want to be _that bad_ of a womanizer apparently. ;) As always, thank you so much for the reviews and everything :D It always makes my day reading them and even just watching the view count go up :D ))

Once again he stopped talking and she was left to simply stare at him...again. Of all the things she had been excepting him to say, that was certainly one of the last. And it seemed as if he really hadn't been expecting to tell her either judging by the way he kept trying to say something only to close his mouth once more.

She watched him continue to struggle for a few short moments before she couldn't stand it any longer. Whatever had happened was clearly something that greatly troubled him and regardless of how much she wanted to hear about it, she didn't like seeing him so undone by it. Leaning forward she reached across the desk and laid her hand on his. "Mr. Andrews...you don't have to tell me now. It's all right..."

Ian wasn't fighting himself because of the details of the story, but rather the very idea of telling it to her. He didn't know if telling her would ruin the chances of breaking the curse. But then he had all but lost hope that it would ever be broken in the first place. Still...after everything he had heard about last night...and the way she wasn't reliving every moment of her time with the prince...maybe there was still a chance for him. Maybe, just maybe. And Norah had said he needed to pull in her, not push her away. What else would prove how much he trusted her then by telling her this? ...but what if by knowing it destroyed the chance of her breaking the curse...

Sighing as she reached out and touched him, he lowered his hands and took her hand gently in between his, staring at the smooth and perfect skin in between his scarred and twisted ones. "No, Clara. I want to tell you." He brushed his rough thumb gently across the back of her hand. "I wasn't always like this. I was told I was quite handsome." A roguish smirk crossed his lips as he glanced up at her briefly. "I had any number young women in my company at any given time and hanging on my arm wherever I went." Clara did her best to not give him the satisfaction of shooting him a disdainful look. Which she knew well was the reaction he wanted from her. She kept her face politely straight, raising her eyebrows only slightly. "But while I had an easy time charming women and keeping them under my thumb, men...I had a hard time keeping them as friends."

The bemused expression left his face and he glanced back down at her hand. "For one reason or another they were jealous of me and I learned quickly that I couldn't trust any of them. But I had one friend from childhood that I trusted with my life." A shadow of a smile momentarily flickered across his lips at the memory. "We were virtually inseparable during childhood and in adulthood we were more like brothers than friends. We were a troublesome pair even in adulthood. Both of us just wanted to adventure and travel, but neither of us could leave this blasted place. We each had our own obligations to our families. But that didn't stop us from hunting in the woods every once in a while." He paused as the memory came back and she could see a myriad of emotions cross his face, but he seemed to resolve himself.

"One night we found an old abandoned cottage. We scavenged around inside, but there was little inside besides a forgotten bed and broken chair. As we were leaving the rotten floorboards gave way under my friend. There was a secret room beneath the floors filled with gold and silver goblets, jewelry, and stacks of coins. The kingdom was in such debt at that time and our families were both struggling so we thought it was a blessing. We took as much as we could and decided the next day we would return and collect the rest. Well, when we returned there was a woman there who greeted us. She accused us of stealing her treasures and swore she'd curse the pair of us if we didn't return all of it. At first neither of us believed her since the house had been abandoned, but she produced papers stating her claim to it. My-my friend had a good heart and brought everything back. I kept a few coins." He stopped again and in the lengthy silence Clara noticed that he had never stopped stroking her hand.

Clara stared at him, knowing well what had happened next, but he didn't seem to be finished. He could see the depthless sadness that was in his eyes and all the regret. Her heart ached for him and she twisted her hand in his, interlocking their fingers and squeezing his hand comfortingly.

"She gave me a chance to give her the coins, but I..couldn't... I didn't have it, so she changed me into this." He couldn't look at her. He didn't want to see whatever emotion was playing behind those pretty soft brown eyes. Didn't want her to see what was playing in his.

"Mr. Andrews..." Clara found herself coming out of her chair and she was around the desk before she even knew what she was doing. Wrapping her arms around him, he sat there surprised for a moment before he stood and better enveloped her in his own arms. "...you needed the money...maybe if you apologized she would understand..." Clara murmured into the fabric of his shoulder.

"I've tried. She wouldn't hear of it..." But Ian was having a hard time feeling sorry for himself with the feel of her body gently pressed against his own. He enjoyed the feel of her in his arms and the longer she lingered the less he wanted to think about the curse.

Pulling back her head she looked up at him with bright eyes. "Maybe I could talk to her. Convince her-"

"No." The word came out louder and harsher than Ian meant, but the thought of her visiting the witch was far more terrifying than remaining a monster forever. "Clara, there are people in this world that have no goodness in their hearts. She is one of them. She would only hurt you for trying..." He saw her wilting like a flower whose sunlight has just been stolen and he felt even worse than before. A hand came up and he gently tucked a stray hair back under cap and brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek. Her skin was so incredibly soft... "I've talked to her, begged her...but there is nothing she can or will do. I have long since accepted that I will be what I am for the rest of my life..." His fingers curved over her jaw and brushed along the curve of her neck. His eyes followed the trail of his fingers. Her skin was perfectly unmarred and he felt an almost overwhelming urge to press his lips against every spot his fingers had touched. "...am I really so hideous?"

He hadn't expected those words to be spoken, but there was nothing he could do now. His eyes met hers, but she was unreadable and his heart twisted agonizingly in his chest. She didn't have to say a word, he knew the answer with just that look. The moment was broken and he dropped his arms from her and pulled back out of hers. "It's time for you to leave."

Clara seemed surprised by that and she started at him. "Mr. Andrews..." His name was little more than a breathless whisper. She hadn't taken a single breath since his fingers touched her cheek. He had practically enchanted her himself. She had been frozen to the spot, staring at him, unable to speak. Unable to move. Unable to feel anything but the gentle warmth of his fingers. Unable to see anything but the piercing green of his eyes. Leave? She wanted to stay. "Please, I-"

"I said get out, Clarabell." The words were more of a growl than anything else and he turned away from her. He was so angry all of a sudden. And she was so confused. What had just happened? What had she done?

Hurt, she hesitated only a moment before she turn and fled from his study. She didn't go down to the kitchens. Or to her room. She fled down the stairs and ran out the door, sprinting for the gardens with her eyes full of tears. What had she done? She could still feel his fingers on her cheek like phantom hands. And she could still see the way his eyes bore into hers brighter than she had ever seen them as he held her. What had happened? She had thought...

Tripping, she fell to the ground, but instead of standing back up, she simply sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, not noticing her mother's roses were right beside her. She didn't understand. Not the feelings that had been swirling in her when she was with him or why she felt so miserable when he had pushed her out. What had she done?

* * *

After she had finally been able to pull herself back together Clara had resigned herself to do everything possible to avoid Mr. Andrews. Which worked out well since he seemed to be doing the same and avoiding her as well. Both Hannah and Norah had tried to get her to talk about it, but Clara gave them the same short answers as she had about the ball.

It was a week after that day that Hannah found her scrubbing the hallway floors barely able to talk because she was so excited.

"Oh my stars, Clara! He's here!" Hannah was practically jumping and her voice was as high pitched a small girl's.

Clara stared confusedly up at her and tossed the brush back into the bucket beside her. She was a disaster. The weather was hot and stuffy and she felt like she needed a long, soak in a cool tub of water. "Who's here, Hannah?" She dragged the back of her hand across her forehead and brushed stray hair out her eyes.

"The prince! He's in the sitting room waiting for you!"

The words took a few long moments to completely register in Clara's mind. She couldn't seem to understand that the prince was in their sitting room let alone waiting for her. "Why?"

"Clara!" Hannah almost skipped to her friend and grabbed Clara's arm, dragging her up and to her feet. "Go find out! You shouldn't keep a prince waiting! Come on!"

Clara wouldn't budge. "Hannah, look at me! I'm in no condition to sit with a prince!"

"Clara! He's the prince! You can't not go sit with him! Come on!" Hannah gave another yank to friend's arm and Clara none too happily followed. She did manage to bring a smile to her lips as she and Hannah stepped into the sitting room where the prince sat on a chair. One his servants stood by the door. "Here she is, your highness!" Hannah curtsied, glanced from her friend and to the prince before hurrying out. Clara knew her friend would be listening at the door, however. Maybe with Norah.

Bran stood up, his easy grin lighting up his face as he looked at her. "Hello, Clara. It's nice to see you again."


	16. Chapter 16

Clara curtsied and couldn't quite meet his eyes. She felt like a pig who had just rolled around in its stye in front of him. "It's nice to see you as well, your highness. Forgive me for looking so unkempt, I've been scrubbing the floors..." If he hadn't believed she was a servant before, now there would be no question.

Bran shook his head, moved towards her, and surprised her by taking her hands in his. "It's Bran, remember?" Smiling still, he caught her chin gently and forced her eyes up to his. "You look as beautiful as the night we met."

She couldn't help the blush that worked its way up her cheeks. She wanted to ask why he was there, but she bit the question back, not wanting to be rude.

"Come, let's sit." He led her to the chairs and waited until she sat down before he did as well. "I brought you something..." Bran glanced to his servant and with a flick of his hand the man walked over. Clara hadn't noticed the box in his hands. "I'm slightly ashamed to say it's not really a gift since it already belonged to you, but Hannah took a dozen of the yellow roses to put in water and into your room. A surprise that I've now clearly ruined."

She took the box from his servant before looking back over at Bran with curious eyes as she opened it. Inside sat a single pale gold silk shoe with embroidered roses. "My shoe! You found it." Smiling she took it out of the box, her fingers gently tracing over the embroidery. She had thought it was gone

"After you left I found it. It is quite an extraordinary shoe. I thought you might like it back." Bran grinned and hesitated a moment as he watched her. "Speaking of which, I wanted to talk to you about that night..." Clara looked back at him, the smile fading from her lips. She didn't want to talk about that night. Not with Hannah. Not with Mr. Andrews. And certainly not with him. "...I can't stop thinking about you, Clara. I-" Suddenly he reached over and took the shoes from her, placing them on the floor. "I don't really understand it but I was hoping..."

Leaning towards her he took her hands in between his and looked at her with eyes that were as bright as Mr. Andrews had been right before he unceremoniously threw her out of his study. The only difference was Clara was breathing just fine. "This is going to sound slightly mad, but, Clara, I can't court you properly if you're living here. My days are so filled with war talk and peace talk and whatever else my father thinks I need to see and do, but if you were in the castle..." He was staring at her as if he didn't need to say anything more. As if he wanted her to say something, but she had no idea what to say. She barely even understood what he was asking.

"You-you want me to work in the castle?"

Bran laughed and shook his head. "No! Of course not! You'll be my guest."

"But I'm a maid I-"

"Clara," his voice was gentle, but his tone was that of a man talking to a small child. "You are a maid in this house. You don't have to be that in my home. You will be a lady. You'll have your own handmaids. The life you have here, it isn't what you want, is it?"

He made it sound so simple. She was a maid. Barely anything in the world and here he was, a prince asking her to accompany him to the castle. Trade her scratchy black and white uniform for extravagant colorful gowns. It sounded easy and wonderful and completely and utterly surprising, but she was having trouble feeling blissful about it. She was having trouble feeling anything at all.

Clara managed a smile, "I'm afraid you've caught me quite off guard. Your is offer is...unexpected." She breathed out a small laugh.

"Say yes, Clara. Even just for a little while. If you hate it or...or hate me, you can leave whenever you wish." The boyish, eager grin was back on his lips as he squeezed her hands.

"Can I-Can I think about it?" Clara watched his smile dim and the light slightly leave his eyes. "It's just-it's just so much all at once. I've never even dreamt of anything like that. I-" She hated seeing the disappointment, but it was too much. And she wasn't sure what she wanted to say. "I've always been a maid. The idea of being a lady and being courted by you...let me have a chance to wrap my mind around it. Please?"

Bran hesitated but the grin came back and he eventually nodded. He was a prince. Who said no to him? No one. "Of course. Take whatever time you need. I'll be waiting."

Clara smiled feeling more genuine about the action now then she had since she had first stepped into the room. "Thank you."

Squeezing her hand once more, he released them and stood up. "I need to get back. You will send someone when you have made your decision?"

Clara stood up with him, nodding, and felt a surge of relief sweeping through her as he would be soon out the door. "The moment I make it I will let you know."

Bran grinned and picked up her hand once more in his and brushed his lips against the back of it. "Well, until then, my lovely lady Clara."

The blush crept up her cheeks as she dipped into a curtsey and had just straightened back up when the doors opened.

"What is the crisis, Norah? What-" The man stopped cold in his tracks in the doorway. He was covered head to toe except his gnarled hands and piercing emerald green eyes. His left hand held a pair of leather gloves and his right had paused in removing the scarf from around his face. "-have you done?" The rest of his sentence came out in a breathy rush as Bran and Clara's eyes snapped to him.


	17. Chapter 17

"Gray...?" Clara couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"Ian!" At the same moment Clara spoke, Bran exclaimed in the same delight one would at seeing an old friend.

Ian felt as if the breath had been stolen from his lungs. As if his horse had kicked him square in the stomach. Norah had been in a frenzied state, telling him there was a problem of large proportions in the sitting room. That it couldn't wait for him to change. That he needed to see to it immediately. That Clara had safely left for the market. Hannah certainly had looked equally distraught as his sister and what little tricksters they both had been...

"Ian, it's good to see you again!" Bran was grinning as he crossed the room and held out a hand to the other man. "I didn't expect to see you here today. Miss Hannah told me you were out..."

"I-I thought I'd be out longer..." Ian tore his gaze away from Clara long enough to glance at the prince and shake Bran's hand. "The ships were supposed to come in today, your highness. Yours made it in and I saw that the goods made it safely to your vendors. Mine, however, have not."

Clara felt frozen to the spot. She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. She couldn't breath. She was such a fool. She should have seen it. Should have put it together. She had never even thought it because she hadn't believed Mr. Andrews nor Gray would lie to her. Would keep that from her. She could make out Norah and Hannah just behind Mr. Andrews. She couldn't believe them either. Hannah most of all. She was her best friend. She had cried over and begged for information about Gray...and the whole time she had known...

"Good. I'm sure your ships will dock tomorrow. The seas have been rough as of late, but you've always had the sturdiest and seaworthiest of crew." The prince patted Ian's shoulder. "I need to get going, but I daresay you may need to start looking for another maid."

Ian glanced at the prince once more with a raised eyebrow. He was quite sure of that. A new maid and a new cook because if Norah was going, Hannah was as well. She was just as much at fault. Both would be out before morning, he didn't care if they had a place to go or not.

"Clara. I've asked her to come to the palace with me. I'm hoping she'll accept." The prince was grinning again, glanced back at Clara, giving her a wink, and then continued on past towards the door with his servant at his heels.

The only person that moved was Hannah to open the door for the prince. No one else dared even breath. And it was a few long minutes after the prince had left that Clara managed to gain control over her tongue again.

"Grayson?" Clara's voice sounded small yet exceedingly loud in the otherwise silent room.

"Yes." There was no denying it now. Ian peeled away the last of the scarf and slowly pulled down his hood. He was usually hot and stuffy in all of it, but now he only felt cold.

Clara searched the green eyes that she should have known were to be both men. She should have known it from the start, but she trusted Hannah when she had first laughed off Clara's timid question about it. She had trusted Norah who had assured her with her life that Mr. Andrews never left the house. She had trusted Gray. And Ian.

"Why?" The soft question hung in the air, but Clara realized she didn't really care right then why. "You lied to me. All of you. You all watched as I moped around here for days like a love sick girl wondering where Gray was and you never said anything! I asked you, Hannah, for how long?" Clara took a step forward, trying to get a better look at her friend who wouldn't look at her. "You even let me cry on your shoulder as I wondered where he was and what I had done and why he never came to visit." Her eyes then fixed on Norah. "And you told me he never left this house. You swore on your life that he _never_ left." Finally they met Ian's or Gray's or whoever he was. "And you..." She let the accusation hang for a few moments before she finally gave a short, mirthless laugh. "I don't even know what to say to you. I don't even know who you are. Which is it? Ian? Gray? Or do you have another name?"

Ian couldn't blame her for seeing the situation as it looked to her. He couldn't blame her for hating them as it seemed they had only been toying with her. But the only person she should be hating was him. He had made both Hannah and Norah lie to her. He had been the one pretending to be two separate people in her life. "That is my name," his voice was barely above a whisper as he watched her full of regret. "My name is Ian Grayson Andrews. I never meant to hurt you-"

Clara laughed again. "Hurt me? That's all you've done since I came here. And I thought my stepmother was-" She cut herself off and shook her head. At least she always knew where she stood with her stepmother. She had always known what to expect from her. "Was this all just some game to you?"

Ian shook his head empathically and took a step towards her but she held her hands up as if warding him off and took a step back. And that sliced through him like a knife. "No, Clara. I never meant for it to be like this. I wanted to tell you, I just...couldn't."

"Couldn't? Why couldn't you?"

He felt like his very soul was being shredded by the pain her eyes and he couldn't even answer her question. All he could do was shake his head. "There are things about me that I can't tell you, Clara. No matter how much I want to."

She could feel the tears starting to burn in her eyes as she looked at him. She was such a fool. Maybe he was right. Maybe he was just a beast. Taking a deep breath she nodded. "I see." Without another word she started walking toward the door, doing her best to stay as far away from him, Norah, and Hannah as she could.

"Wh-where are you going?" His deep voice was rough as the emotions colliding within him were threatening to overwhelm even him.

Clara paused staring off at the staircase for a moment as if she hadn't really thought of where she was actually going. "The palace." Even as the words came from her mouth they didn't make her feel the slightest bit better. "The prince has generously offered me a place there and not as a servant. I'd be a fool not to accept...and I'm really tired of playing one all the time here." Her eyes met each of the three in turn before she forced herself to calmly walk to the stair case and up each of the stairs, her back straight, and faking an air of controlled confidence that she didn't feel even in the slightest.

* * *

Ian was frozen to his spot watching Clara disappear upstairs. He couldn't move and was half praying somehow the world would spin the other direction and he could repeat the last few minutes and never walk into the study. But for all his efforts, he was stilling standing there. And Clara was still going to leave.

"Ian..." Norah's voice was behind him and he fought his temper welling inside of him. "I'm sorry I didn't-"

"You may be my sister, but you no longer have a place here." Losing his grip he spun around, his eyes pinning on her.

"You had to stop it, Ian! She was going to go and never know who you-"

"Well, she damn well is leaving now! And, tell me, dear sister, do you think she'll come back? Do you think she could ever love me now? After this little stunt you and Hannah so beautifully orchestrated?" It was unfair to put so much blame on them when it was clearly his fault, but he couldn't help it. He had allowed himself to fall in love with Clara as he had never done before. He had let himself hope at a chance of breaking toe curse, of having a life with her.

"Ian, that's not fair. And I only told Hannah after she had left Clara with him. I-"

"I want you out of my house. Both of you!"

"No!" Norah took a step towards her brother as Hannah shrunk back further. "I'm not leaving and neither is Hannah. This is our home as much as yours and you can bully everyone else, but you will _not_ do it to us. _You_ did this to yourself." She wouldn't back down even as an animalistic growl seemed to rumble around his chest.

Ian stood there, staring down at his sister, tense with his rage at himself. She was right. He wouldn't ever admit it, but Norah was right. Without saying another word he stormed around his sister and past Hannah without another glance. He took the stairs two at a time not wanting to waste another last precious second he may have with Clara.

* * *

There wasn't all that much to pack. A few simple dresses Ian had bought for her when she was sick to wear instead of the maid's uniforms. She had pressed one of her mother's roses and that was about it. Clara turned toward her nightstand and stared at the delicate glass rose. She couldn't decide if she wanted to take it or not. But as the warm tears spilled over her cheeks she realized she couldn't take it. There were too many memories attached to it. And it was too expensive a gift from someone she didn't even know now.

A soft knock nearly made her jump out of her skin and she wiped her eyes as she turned ready to snap at Hannah or Norah assuming one or both had come to apologize, but she was stunned to see Ian standing there. His shoulders were slumped unusually forward and he looked as if the world was crushing down on him. A feeling she could sympathize with if she thought he even really felt that way.

"What can I say to...make you stay?" His dull, saddened eyes searched hers and despite herself she felt her heart going out to him yet again.

Deciding she couldn't look at him, she turned away and refolded her dresses into an old, moth eaten carpet bag on her bed. "There's nothing you can say. I've made up my mind."

There was a long silence before he sighed softly. "I could make you. You are indebted to me..."

She could tell by the sound of his voice he didn't mean it, that it was only an empty threat. But it was a threat all the same. "You are supposed to be a monster...I suppose it wouldn't surprise me." Clara managed to glance back at him to see if her words struck the chord in him that she wanted and the pain that flashed through his eyes made her heart twist. Dropping the dress she closed her eyes. What was wrong with her? This wasn't who she was. She didn't purposefully hurt anyone...even if they had done their best to hurt her.

Turning back around, she looked up at him, her eyes and tone of voice soft and gentle. "I thought you had been hurt. That you ran away. That you found someone else. That you were kidnapped. That you were...killed. I asked everyone that I knew about you..." She searched his eyes trying to find something in them, but she didn't even know what she was looking for.

"I know." There was a note of defeat in his voice. As if he had given up on something already.

"I did everything to try and find you."

"I know."

"And you were right here all along. And you never said anything. Why? Why didn't you tell me?" She just wanted to know what made him do it. Maybe she could forgive him for pretending to be two different people, but she had to trust him first again. And that started with an explanation.

"I...I can't tell you why I did it, Clara. I can only say I'm sorry." Ian watched her retreat back into herself again. He watched her walls come back up and the icy guarded expression return. He had said the wrong thing. Helplessly and recklessly he tried again. "That I...I love you."

"You love me? You don't love me. You don't lie to someone you love. You don't pretend to be someone else. You don't scare the life out of them the first day here or angrily storm out of the room when they ask about your past and you don't throw them out of the study after...after..." she couldn't even finish the sentence. Taking a deep, steadying breath she fixed him with another look. "But the truly sad thing is...I think I loved you...Gray...Ian...but all you do is lie and keep secrets. How can I love someone that I can't trust?"

Ian didn't know how respond and Clara could only shake her head. She shoved the last dress into the bag and shut it. Picking it up she went to walk past Ian, but he put an arm up blocking her path. "You are indebted to me..."

Surprised she stared up at him, shocked that he was sinking so low, but then it probably shouldn't surprise her. "What are you going to do? Keep me prisoner?"

After everything he had put her through she hadn't expected the way it twisted her heart when he looked down at her after those words. "No, Clara. No, I could never do that. Is that what you really think of me?" He paused but not long enough for her to respond. "Don't answer that. Please. I already know your answer. It's obvious I'm now the monster you always truly thought me to be, aren't I?" Again he didn't give her a long enough pause to speak. "I will let you go to the castle so long as you come back to finish off your debt."

"My debt?"

"Yes, Clara. Your debt. I bought you from your stepmother so that you could have your life."

"My life? I thought you were just saying it belonged to you now."

"Clara! For heavens sake, listen to me!" If he wasn't so sure she would go running from him right then he would shake her. "Come back. Help me clean up the garden for winter and your debt will be paid. You can do as you please then. If you stay I'll pay you even."

"And why should I trust you now?"

Ian sighed and shook his head. "What other choice do you really have?"

Clara regarded him coolly for a few long moments. "How long do I have before I have to come back?"

"How long do you want?"

"Forever."

"Clara..."

"A month."

"I'll give you two, but you must wear this ring." Digging into his pocket he pulled out a small gold ring with a single small emerald. "To remind you of your promise."

Clara took it from him and slipped it onto her finger. It seemed a small price to pay for her temporary freedom.


	18. Chapter 18

Clara managed to get out of the house without another word to anyone even though they all tried again to speak with her. To apologize. Clara didn't want to hear any of it. She had heard enough from all of them, she just needed to get away. To go somewhere that she didn't have to see any of them. Where she could be alone with her thoughts and try to make sense of it all.

Luckily when Jensen delivered her to the palace, the prince look more than happy to see her and quickly found someone to show her to her new room. But she was hardly alone. A girl swept into her room moments after she was finally alone in it and started preparing her a bath while questioning her the whole time if she had really been a maid.

And if Clara had thought this had been a good idea, she was starting to question even that decision. She was having a hard enough time wrapping herself around what had just happened let alone what this new life was demanding of her. Her room itself was as big as the cottage her father and her used to live in. And everything in it would give them enough money to live off of for years without having to work a single day.

Her maid, Tori insisted on dressing her and there was barely a moment when the girl wasn't around her. Which at times was a small blessing as Clara learned quickly how much different this life was then hers. It seemed almost everyone had learnt of her past and while some seemed indifferent or politely curious there were also those who regarded her with disdain.

From the first night at dinner Clara felt like a fish who had been suddenly thrown onto land and expected to walk. She had dined with the royal family and countless courtiers whom she didn't know, but who all seemed to know her. They talked about things she didn't understand and she had no idea which fork or spoon to use first.

There were tiny customs that Clara wasn't aware of such as rising when one of the royal family members came into a room and so many more that Clara was constantly making a fool of herself because she had no idea.

The prince had been aware enough that such a thing would happen and the very next morning Clara was informed she would have her own tutor. She would learn what most noble born ladies did over the course of years as quickly as possible. And the challenge was nearly too much. There was so much to remember and Clara found herself scarcely ever thinking about Norah or Hannah or...Ian. It was only in her dreams that she saw their faces now and in the quiet moments in the morning and night when her maid had yet to arrive that her mind could drift to them and that day.

The prince himself she barely saw for longer than a few short moments a day and was usually right after dinner. She couldn't even sit next to him! Instead she sat between two ladies who regarded her much like one would regard a pebble in their shoe.

* * *

On one particular day when she was feeling more miserable than ever and debating whether working for Mr. Andrews would be easier than this, the prince found her in the library. The books in the castle were far more complex than any she had ever seen and reading them was a bigger chore than beating the rugs by herself. She sat in a chair in a corner of the room half hidden by plants and a book case with her feet out of the tight silk shoes and curled up underneath her. If her tutor had found her she would been scolded, but it was the prince whose footsteps she had heard and looked up to see.

He was grinning at her as she hurriedly took her feet off the chair and found her shoes. "If I had a choice I wouldn't wear them either." Stopping in front of her he offered her his hand to help her up. "How are you enjoying the castle?"

It was a question he asked her often enough, but one she never seemed to have a good enough answer for apparently, since he kept on asking it. "I'm learning so much, your high-Bran." In private she was supposed to call him Bran. "I was just reading a book on all the different types of stitches one can use in embroidery. Tomorrow is my first lesson." Something she couldn't say she was looking forward to in the slightest and it must have been quite apparent on her face.

"Is it? Sounds...fascinating." But she could tell by the look on his face he believed it about as much as she did. "If you like you can hold the monthly Giving and I will practice the stitching..."

Clara smiled and tilted her head slightly in curiosity. "Giving?"

"Once a month people from the kingdom can come and make requests of the castle. Stipends of food. A delay in tax collections. Something that will help them." He shook his head. "Another show my father insists on to show we care."

"And you don't agree?"

He hesitated and looked away from her for a few moments before shaking his head again. "It's not that I don't agree, it's...just a waste."

"A waste? Forgive me, but you are helping those who need it most."

"No. We are helping a few every month and that does not make up for the many who we are not." He paused a moment and gestured toward the doors. "I have been trapped in this place all day, will you walk with me in the gardens?"

She nodded enthusiastically. She was starting to feel like a caged bird as well. As he led her outside he looked to be thinking about something. "I have been trying to convince my father for years now to end the Giving. We should save those resources and spend them on something that will have a greater impact. An orphanage or the kingdom to the East has a place where the poor can rest and work in the fields growing their own food. A shelter."

Clara was somewhat surprised by how charitable he seemed to be. She hadn't heard many good things about the royal family and she doubted anyone would ever think the prince was so kind. "Why won't he? It sounds like a wonderful idea!"

"Because much of the kingdom has lost faith in us. And if you didn't know me aside from being a prince who never had wanted, would you be happy if I told you I wasn't going to give you the food you desperately need for this month? Or not another month to get the money to pay for the taxes? Even if I promised you something better... if you were barely able to live for tomorrow, would you care what I promised you in a few months if I didn't help you right then?" He paused and made her stop to, so that he could look in her eyes and she could see that he wasn't a man who went back on his word. That this wasn't something he was just saying. He actually cared about what was going on in his kingdom. "I can't make up for the past without their trust and forgiveness now."

The words rang in Clara's head and she had to look away. They walked on passing more flowers Clara had never seen before and going deeper into the gardens than they had the night of the ball. "My stepmother kept me away from the town as much as possible...what happened that you lost their trust?"

Bran kicked at a stone in their path and watched it roll far ahead of them. "My father mishandled things in his youth. He became king quite young-"

"My father told me about that. He said your father was only fifteen when he took the crown, married only a year later, and a year after that you were born."

"Yes. He was forced to grow up fast. He also had a board of advisors who were more interested in their own purses than anything else and my father never fully realized how his actions affected the town since he never went into it. He ruled from afar and as such drove his people into poverty." Catching up to the stone he kicked it again and watched it bounce and roll away. "But he never fully realized the state his people were in. So when he heard people weren't paying their taxes properly, he started taking more from them. Their homes. Their livestock. Their land. Their ships. Anything that had value."

"Didn't he hear about how his people were living?" Clara couldn't believe the king would be so blind to his people, but then she could remember her father so worn down when she was younger. She could remember hearing about how he sold the ships, but never understanding why when their lives depended on the shipments they brought in. How he had so much trouble calling in favors for help with money when they finally lost their last ship and how long it had taken him to find a job. Papa had known everyone in town and everyone had always liked him. He shouldn't have ever had as much trouble as he did. Perhaps that was why. "How long did this go on for?"

Bran scoffed. "Years. My grandfather had ruled well so it did take quite some time for my father to completely destroy all the stability my grandfather had created. I was probably around eleven by the time my father truly realized what was going on." And probably the same time Papa had married her stepmother. "It was also right around then that the town was at its worst. My father tried to turn things around, but so much damage has been done. The way things are right now, Clara..." He shook his head sadly. "My own grandchildren will still be left dealing with this."

The walked quietly for a few moments, Bran once again finding his rock and kicking it. "That's why I bought those ships Ian's in charge of. I thought maybe they would find treasures somewhere. That they would bring things that I could sell to other kingdoms and get more money into my own."

"Do they? I've seen Mr. Andrews' stall. He has some of the most beautiful and unique treasures. Surely your ships are bringing in the same."

Bran shrugged. "They always seem to bring in a good shipment, but...I always feel they weren't truly worth the price I paid for them."

Clara regarded him quietly for a few moments before realizing they had looped around the gardens and were back at the castle.

Sighing softly he stopped and turned towards her, picking up both of her hands. "I'm afraid, my lovely lady Clara, I must return and be drilled into learning the lessons my father did not. Can I meet you here tomorrow? Perhaps this could become our daily moment of peace."

"Of course. I'd love any excuse to get out and away from-oh! I'm sorry. That was very rude of me." She offered him a sheepish smile as she saw him grin at her. "Your castle is very beautiful and I am very grateful for the tutor. I-"

Laughing Bran held up a hand to stop her. "Stop! I understand perfectly. The castle walls start to close in on you if you're stuck in them all day. No pretty painting can stop that. And tutors are so stiff they take all the life out of you." Bringing her hand up to his lips he kissed it as he usually did. "I can hardly wait for tomorrow then."

Clara couldn't help the smile on her lips as she watched him walk away. He was so charming it was hard not to look forward to seeing him again.


	19. Chapter 19

Clara couldn't help but look forward to the part of each day when she could escape to the gardens with Bran. It was a small reprieve in her otherwise hectic and stress filled day. She was having to learn so much so quickly that she was starting to have headaches by mid-day in her attempts to please her demanding tutor. She couldn't remember things right and her hands which were always so steady and sure were suddenly shaky and clumsy as she tried extra hard to be delicate and lady like.

There were moments in every day now that she was starting to look at herself in the mirror and she could no longer recognize herself. She didn't feel like who she was and she certainly didn't look it any more. She was slowly becoming someone she didn't know and it wasn't a feeling she enjoyed.

But then right about when she was starting to think about giving up and running away, she'd find herself in the gardens at Bran's side talking and laughing. There was just something about him that anyone in his company couldn't help but feel a bit lighter and brighter. It was probably because of the way he was always laughing and smiling. He was hardly ever in an unpleasant mood.

She did, however, notice that he was a sore loser. He didn't take it well at all when she beat him at chess or outraced him in bare feet across pasture fields.

"You...cheat." Bran collapsed at the fence clearly completely out of breath.

"How can I cheat in a race?" Clara's breathing was a little easier. She had been working her whole life and such a life resulted in more stamina. Sitting down beside him, not caring if there would be grass stains on the pretty royal blue gown, she grinned at him.

Bran laid down, exhausted from the run and aimed a glare at her. "You must practice with your tutor. Running must be one of those lady secrets..."

"Lady secrets. Whatever are those?" Clara batted her eyelashes at him, innocently. Apparently there was a whole precise way to flirtatiously bat one's eyelashes.

"Like that! I've seen my mother pull that look to my father. She gets whatever she wants with it."

Playing offended Clara brought a hand to her heart and raised her chin. "Well, I don't know what in the world you are talking about. I have never been so insulted. I would never-"

Bran grinned and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her down on top of him, and then rolled and pinned her beneath him before Clara realized what was even happening. "Oh no you don't! My mother does that too. You won't sway me with your unjust ways."

Clara would've laughed if it wasn't for the way he was looking at her and the situation she was in. He lowered his lips and gently kissed her, but all she could feel was the ant crawling on her arm and the grass tickling her ear.

His lips lingered for a few moments before he rolled back off of her and onto his back and gently pulled her up to his side. Clara rested her head on his shoulder and listened to his heartbeat and tried to figure out why she didn't feel anything with him when he had always been charming and kind towards her. When he was a prince and giving her so much. He was perfect. And yet she didn't feel a single thing.

Bran sighed softly as he stared up at the sky. "Do you ever wish you could just run away from here?"

Almost every day she got to that point, but she couldn't really say that. She did find it strange that he would say such a thing when he was determined to be responsible to his kingdom. "Sometimes. Especially when I'm stitching and constantly poking my finger. Do you?"

He hesitated. "Ever since I was a boy. I wouldn't ever do it. I know my place is here and I have a duty to the kingdom, but...sometimes I feel the life I've been given isn't my own."

Unwillingly Clara's mind went to Ian. The life Ian had been given certainly wasn't one he would have chosen and it shouldn't have been his own. Ian had never spoke of leaving. He hadn't even kept himself inside and locked away. He had done what was necessary for his own life and others even as almost everyone around him turned against him. And here the prince, who had been given everything, was talking about leaving. About having a life he didn't care for.

"I think we all feel that way and we all learn to find the best within it."

Bran looked down at her with raised eyebrows. "You found the best in it while living with your stepmother?"

Clara smiled understandingly and nodded. "My mother's roses. I could always find peace when I was by them." Turning in his arms she propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him. "You are a good man, Bran. This may not be the life you think you would've chosen, but it's a life you were meant for. If anyone is going to turn things around and make the people start believing in your family again, it will be you. Once they see you and know you, they will be unable to deny how much you care about them... There is something about you people are drawn to and it's not your title or your good looks." Grinning at him she pulled out of his arms all together and stood up, offering her hand down to him. "Come on, let's race back. I suppose I can let you win this time."

Bran managed a grin and stood up, taking off alongside her, and this time matching her stride for stride.

* * *

The weeks went slowly by, but after a while Clara couldn't believe how much time had passed. Slowly she was starting to learn more and more about Bran. Including that when his temper was invoked he could hold onto a grudge better than a starving mouse would a block of cheese. Not that it was aimed at her, but rather some poor man at the Giving who had asked too much and then proceeded to say some rather rude things Clara would rather blush at than repeat.

Their walks in the gardens, runs through the pastures, or any other place they went each day were still something she looked forward to more than anything. She still hated her daily lessons, but she was growing more accustomed to her life in the castle. She had made some friends with a couple ladies who seemed genuine enough. She still didn't understand her feelings for Bran. She knew she should. It should be so easy to love him, but she didn't feel it with him. He was stealing kisses more and more frequently, but none of them left her breathless as when Ian had simply touched her. Or sometimes just had looked at her.

Clara was sitting in the garden on one particular day waiting for him and twirling the ring on her finger. Her promise was to return in little over a week and she wasn't really so sure how she felt about it. She was still angry at him and the others, but there was also a tiny part of her, that she refused to acknowledge, that was jumping at the chance to see him again. If she let herself feel it, she did miss him. She missed the easy back and forth they had. She missed the eagerness he had to make her smile or laugh. Or the way his eyes would brighten when she got him to talk about his ships. And the way he smiled at her even when she added too much coffee to the water. She missed even his quick temper.

Sighing softly she stared down at the ring suddenly feeling tired. He had lied to her. Had hurt her beyond anything she had ever felt. But she missed him.

"Whoever brought that look on your face I shall have to dismiss immediately." Looking up Clara watched Bran sit next to her with his usual grin.

"And if I said it was my tutor?"

"Then I say good luck, my lady, but I sincerely and most hurtfully regret I probably can not dismiss him." He gave her a very apologetic look. "If you are to be a queen my mother would be horrified if you didn't know which fork to use first at dinner." He had been saying that more and more lately too. 'If you are to be queen...' Clara never knew what to say to that, so she tried to ignore it.

"But I know what fork to use at dinner already."

"Perfect! Then it'll be the first order of business when I return inside." Bran grinned and gently took her hand. "Come. There are few flowers still blooming, we must enjoy them while we still can."

They meandered through the gardens as they had so many times in the past two months. He chattered idly about his day and anything else that seemed to come into his head. She tried to be as talkative as she usually was, but her mind kept wandering.

"How did you come to know Mr. Andrews?" The question came out before she could stop it. She had been curious about it ever since that day when he seemed to know Ian. She had since found out they were business partners, but that didn't explain how Bran came to know him.

Bran was silent for a few moments as if trying to remember how they had met. "Years ago I bought a few ships, but I know nothing of the sea. I...I knew Ian had a successful fleet and he managed them so well. I hired Ian to manage mine for me." Something about the way he said it made Clara look up at him. There was a note of guilt in his voice. But before she could ask he was quickly trying to change topics. "Was he the one your stepmother sold you to?"

Clara made them pause at a patch of deep red flowers. Delicately she ran a finger over a fragile petal. "Yes."

Bran didn't say anything to that and they started walking again in silence for a short time. "Why did you leave so quickly that day? I thought...well, you gave me the impression it would be some time before you decided whether to accept my offer or not..."

Clara knew well what he was talking about but she didn't know as well as how to respond. "I...I found some things out about him. I needed to leave. I needed time away to clear my head."

Bran thought about her words for a few long moments. "He is a good business partner, but I've heard he's-"

"He is not as unkind as the rumors lead you to believe." Clara couldn't believe she was defending him after everything. She should just let everyone think the worst.

"When you're in a position such as I, I'm afraid you learn rather quickly how to discern between what is a rumor and what is not."

Stopping Clara looked at him, confused about what Bran was trying to say. "What are you saying?"

"Only that I know of women who have been in your position that have left with quite a different opinion of him."

Clara couldn't believe what he was implying, but...maybe she could. He had lied to her. Frightened her. But Clara knew him. He wouldn't physically harm anyone and if she let herself believe it she knew he wouldn't intentionally harm anyone in any way. It wasn't in his nature. "Ian is not a bad man. He-"

"A man? He hardly looks like a man-"

Clara took a step away from him and shook her head, somewhat disgusted by him. "And I hardly look like a lady, but yet you insist I can be one. Where is the difference?"

Bran held up his hands in surprise and defeat. "I'm sorry, Clara. I did not mean to offend you. I just...care about you. And you said yourself you left because of him. There must be unkind things about him."

Clara searched his eyes, but she didn't see anything besides his concern and something else that wasn't sitting too well with her. "I have to go back to him."

"What?"

"Next week I have to go back to pay off my debt." She didn't know why she was telling him now. She had been and still was toying with the idea of not going back. Clara knew Ian wouldn't send for her or drag her back. It was her choice whether or not she came back, but she knew he was trusting her to. But why shouldn't she break that trust? He broke it countless times already.

Bran scoffed and shook his head. "I will talk to him. I'll give him whatever he wants. You don't have to leave unless that is what you want."

A ghost of a smile was on her lips as she stepped back up to him and shook her head again. "No. It is my debt to be paid. If you paid him, I will only be indebted to you." Bran started to shake his head and speak, but she laid a hand on his arm. "Please, Bran. It is my choice."

He stared at her for a few moments before conceding and nodding. He then led her back along the path in silence for only a short while. "How much do you really know of him, Clara?"

"I don't understand what you're asking..."

Bran paused a moment trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to say. "Do you know how he was changed?"

"Yes."

Startled Bran stared down at her. "Really?"

Clara nodded. "He told me."

Bran watched her for a few long moments before looking away. "Did he tell you about the girls who worked there before you?"

"What do you mean?"

Pausing he looked down at her. "I didn't think he would..."

"Bran, what are you talking about?"

Bran gestured to another bench and they both sat down. "Every few years he hires a new maid after one runs. The girls that leave are usually scared, bruised, and traumatized. They claim that he tortures them. Beats them. Threatens their lives and their families lives if they run-"

"That doesn't sound like Ian. Are you sure those girls aren't lying?"

"No. Clara. You had to have seen it. Does he get mad for no apparent reason?"

She searched his eyes trying to figure out if he was lying and where this was all going. "...Yes..."

"Does he storm off or throw you out a room when seconds before everything had been fine?"

"...a couple times, but-"

"Clara. He is a monster. A beast. He tries to fight it for a while, but eventually it always takes over him. Hannah hasn't been there long. Have you ever stopped to wonder why Norah seems to be the only one who has stayed with him? Most servants are with their families for lifetimes. Not only a few years."

Clara had never stopped to question who had been there before Hannah or why she had left. And it made sense and didn't make any sense at the same time. "Those girls have to be lying...there has to be another reason...Bran, I...so many people say so many things about him. Not once have I ever thought he'd hurt anyone. Hannah has been there longer than I and she has never spoken ill of him and she has no family at all."

"Clara, please. Just think about what I've said. You don't have to go back. We can figure something else out." Bran searched her eyes and she knew what he wanted her to say but she couldn't say it.

"I'll think about it, Bran, but...can we just walk again?"

He hesitated as if he wanted to say more but eventually nodded and they started walking again. Clara was no more talkative than before. Now she was only troubled more by thoughts of Ian.


	20. Chapter 20

"Can't we ever leave and go into town?" Clara was itching to see her friends again in the market.

"How about the day after tomorrow?" Bran gently tugged her towards his mother's greenhouse. Everything else was dead and it was cold outside, but in the greenhouse it was warm and green.

"Why tomorrow? Why not today? Right now? Please, Bran?"

"Itching to leave already?" They both knew what he was referring to and that he was joking, but his tone wasn't that light. In a couple days she would be back at Mr. Andrews' and one of them clearly wasn't happy about it.

"I've never been cooped up in one place for so long. I miss the marketplace and my friends."

Bran sent her a gentle smile. "I can't. We are meeting with a king to the West and my father would hang me before I missed it." Pulling her inside the greenhouse his smile brightened considerably. "I do have a surprise for you though. Perhaps you'll be happier once you see it?"

Clara smiled and followed him farther inside to a pair of yellow and pink rose bushes. Turning towards her he grinned and pulled her gently against him. "My lovely lady Clara..." Lowering his head he brushed his lips against her temple, each cheek, and then her lips. "You are the most wonderful...and beautiful woman I have ever met." His voice was barely above a whisper as he brushed another few kisses against her jaw.

Clara knew she should feel warm, fluttery, breathless, happy, but all she felt was hot and stuffy and antsy to get away from the castle.

"I haven't been able to get you out of my thoughts since the day we met and I spend every day looking forward to this time we have together. I have fallen in love with you, Clarabell." Pulling back his blue eyes looked into hers with such joy and love. "I thought about all these things to say to you but..." His hand dug into a pocket and she watched stunned as he sank to his knees. "Will you marry me, Clara? I know that together we can turn this kingdom around."

Clara stared at him unsure of what to say. He was offering her a life where she would never have to work again. She would never want for anything. She wouldn't be just a simple maid anyone could push around any more. And he was a good man. But something was making her hesitate. She played with the gold and emerald ring on her finger before deciding that there was something wrong with her. That it must be nerves or the cooped up feeling. "Yes."

Bran grinned and slipped a pretty gold and white stoned ring on her finger before gathering her up in his arms and spinning her around. He was laughing and kissing her and saying all these lovely wonderful things, but while she responded and smiled and acted as though she was incredibly lucky and happy...her mind couldn't focus on him.

* * *

A week passed by with Clara hardly realizing it. After the prince had proposed it started a whole new level of chaos. She was pushed harder than ever to learn the way of royalty and now she was starting to even spend time with the queen herself. She needed to be groomed for the throne and with that came wisdom from the woman who currently held it.

The queen had been very dismayed at how Clara held herself and preferred to slip back into the shadows rather than stand in the center of attention. She chided Clara as the head maid tried to bully her into choosing yellow napkins with vases of purple flowers at the dinner table and all Clara did was let her.

"You are going to make a sorry future queen if all you do is act like a timid mouse in a cat's toy box." The queen rounded on her as Clara yet again failed. "I know it's been drilled into you that you are weak and your only purpose in life is to do other's bidding, but if anything is ever going to change in this kingdom, you are going to have to gain a backbone."

Clara forced her shoulders not to sag in defeat but she couldn't help but look away as the queen came closer with a face full of disappointment.

"The entire kingdom will know your story. That you are a poor maid like anyone else and that you became a queen. What are you going to show them? Who are you going to be?" The queen reached out and grabbed her chin none too gently and forced Clara to look at her. She expected bitterness in the queen's eyes, but she only found a gentle, understanding strength instead. "Status and men have trod us into the ground too long, Clara. You can inspire every girl in this kingdom to become anything they choose..."

Clara couldn't help the tickle of doubt that nagged at her in the back of her mind. No one had ever told her she could amount to anything and she had always expected to marry and be in charge of the home. But her home would now be filled with servants taking care of everything Clara would have done. She had never thought of working as anything other than a maid either and why should she? It was a respectable woman's work. She didn't need a choice. But now she did.

She had a choice of where her life was taking her and what purpose she would fulfill. Maybe the queen was right. Maybe she could be more than a maid...

* * *

In the days that followed Clara did her best to try and impress the queen. She tried to step out of her comfort and act the complete opposite of what her instincts told her to do. And little by little the queen began to smile at her and not criticize as much, but she still pushed her harder than Clara ever had been pushed before.

Clara hardly had a chance to breath let alone think any more. She was introduced to everyone now as a future princess and she took her place by the prince's side at dinner. That was something that should have been a comfort, but all he did was praise her to anyone that would listen. He would take her hand under the table and steal kisses when he thought no one was looking. Everyone was watching her now more than ever. They weren't just watching to laugh at a maid fail at being a lady, but a maid failing at being a future princess.

One particular afternoon Clara managed to evade her tutor and stole off outside forgetting a cloak. The trees were bare and the ground was hard. There was a cold nip to the air, but the first snow had yet to fall. Despite the cold Clara needed the fresh air. She needed the silence and stillness she seemed to only find outdoors to stop her spinning head.

"I thought I'd find you here..."

Clara hid a look of disappointment as she turned to look at the prince. That was something else she had found she was good at since the prince proposed. Hiding her feelings.

"What's wrong, my love?" Stepping up to her he slipped his arms comfortably around her waist and looked at her with concern. "You haven't been yourself lately."

"Just...overwhelmed I suppose. There's a lot to learn if I am to be a princess." Clara couldn't manage a smile so instead she looked away. She had this increasingly guilty feeling every time she was with Bran and she knew it was because she didn't love him half as much as he did her.

"You will be a wonderful princess, Clara. Everyone will love you." Bran reached up and twirled a strand of her hair around her finger. "You do need a break...I've seen how hard you work..."

Clara managed a small smile then. "Have you?"

Bran nodded. "I've seen you in the library and with my mother. You don't let on how tired you are, but I see it..." Tucking the strand behind her ear, his hand dropped. "Why don't you go to the marketplace like you've been wanting? Visit your friends. I'll tell everyone you had a headache and went to rest. I'll even make sure Tori covers for you."

A grin worked it's way onto her lips, brighter than it had been in weeks. "Really? That'd be wonderful! Thank you, Bran!" She tried to pull away, but he held onto her.

He kissed her gently and smiled before letting her go. "I love you."

Clara smiled and hurried away without another word. She never knew what to say to that either.

* * *

"Would you like some pastries, your highness?" Thom grinned at her and it took everything in her not to smack him.

"I'm not royalty, Thom. Stop that!"

"Not yet. But soon you'll be a princess. Does that mean I should be calling you my lady right now? Do I have to bow over your hand?" Thom smirked as she hit him on the arm. "Well that wasn't very ladylike now was it?"

"I could tell the whole court not to buy bread from you, you know."

"And I could tell the whole court you used to sing to the cows and chickens while wearing a bucket on your head."

Clara glared at him. "How's Sarah, Charlie, and the baby?"

"Sarah has more work than she can keep up with. Charlie's been helping with the baby during the day and decorating cakes with me at night. He's my son now. Started calling me Papa the other day." Thom wasn't one to usually say or show he felt sentimental things and Clara couldn't help grinning at him. Clearing his throat he continued. "And the baby...Clara, she is growing so fast! I can't say she's much of a baby any more."

Clara laughed. "Well then I suppose you'll just have to have another won't you?"

"You say such a thing to Sarah and I _will _tell everyone you sing to chickens with a bucket on your head! I just had my first full night's sleep since she's been born and I don't want to start that again just yet. I have a son and a daughter and that's more than enough for a while." Thom wagged his finger meaningfully at her before handing over a bag of pastries. "Speaking of which," Thom turned and grabbed an envelope from behind him. "Can you stop over at Mr. Andrews' stall and give this to Miles? It's a letter for Hannah. Sarah needs some help and she remembered how interested Hannah had been."

Clara hesitated. "I don't think that's-"

"Clara," Thom had perfected the fatherly tone even if he was still a newer parent and close to Clara's age. "I heard what happened. You were good friends with everyone in that house. Are you going to let a mistake come between you? Think of your life there, is it really worth throwing all that away because of it?"

Clara hesitated still. What if Ian was there? She didn't think she could face him. "Thom, if Ian-"

"It's none of my business, Clara, but I know he loved you as much as you loved him. Isn't that at least worth something?"

"I'm marrying the prince I-"

"The prince. Clara, you aren't even calling him by his name..." Thom paused before leaning forward. "We have been friends since childhood and you tell me everything. I heard all about Gray after you met him and how many conversations did we have right here about Ian? What have you told me about the prince? Nothing, besides you're getting married." He glanced down at her fingers. "And that emerald ring? Is that from your prince to?"

Clara looked down surprised to finger herself twirling it around her finger. "No. Ian gave it to me before I left..." And she had never went back. Two months had come and gone and she hadn't went back. Partially because she had forgotten and partially because she felt guilty of her feelings toward him...and Bran.

"Ian gave it to you and you wear it with the one from your betrothed?" Thom shook his head. "Do you love him, Clara?"

"Who?"

Thom smiled slightly. "You tell me."

Clara looked up at him, confused. She didn't understand what he was saying. "I am marrying the prince, Thom. Who else could I love?"

Pulling back Thom shrugged. "I guess no one then."

Clara still didn't understand as she said her goodbyes and turned away with the envelope in her hand. She walked slowly in the direction of Mr. Andrews' stall. Once people used to stare at her as a maid out of place, now they stared because she was a future princess out of place. Either way she didn't care for the looks, but right then she hardly even noticed. She was stuck thinking about what Thom had said.

Did she love Bran? It was a tough question to figure out since she knew the answer should be yes. She had agreed to marry him, how could she do that if she didn't love him? But the longer she walked the harder it was to accept that answer. From the very beginning she had pressured herself into accepting one offer after another of his because it had seemed like the right thing to do. Perhaps his marriage proposal had simply been that. She had accepted because it had seemed right. She had expected the love to follow, but it hadn't and somewhere in her heart she knew it never would.

Her heart sank as she finally accepted that. She didn't love Bran. But what could she do? She would break his heart if she called off the marriage now. And he had been so kind, could she really do such a thing?

"Clara!" Miles voice drew her out of her gloomy thoughts and she managed a smile.

"Hello, Miles!"

"Oh, Clara, we've all missed you!" Rushing from around, he hugged her before stepping back. "Norah will be so happy to hear I saw you! She's missed you sorely. Hannah too. Poor girl hasn't been the same since you left."

Clara had to look away as he mentioned the two. She had missed them too. "I only came to give you a letter for Hannah. Thom's wife needs some help, she remembered Hannah wanted to be a seamstress."

"Oh! Not another one!" Miles shook his head but the smile stayed in place. "I don't know how all these young maids do it. It seems we find one and a couple years later they get the offer they always wanted! If I didn't know better I'd say it was magic!"

She stared at him for a few long moments. "What? What happened to the other maids?"

Miles shrugged. "We always get some young thing to work for us and within a few years they leave us. Somehow they manage to make a connection with someone to help them into the job they've always dreamed. A few years ago Victoria got a job with a candle maker, she wanted to follow in her grandmother's footsteps. Before her Jess got an apprenticeship with a blacksmith, married him a year later! And you went to the prince and now Hannah off!"

Clara stared at him. She knew the prince had to be wrong! This proved it! And she didn't doubt Ian probably had a hand in finding the jobs the girl's wanted. He hadn't been able to go after his own dream of sailing, but it was in his nature to help others follow theirs if they could. Not that he would ever let anyone know he had a hand in it. He liked to keep up the rumors. A bright smile spread over her lips. "Everyone is doing well then?"

Miles smiled back at her and took the envelope. "Mostly. Norah misses you, of course, but she's been keeping busy. Hannah isn't the same as she used to be. She's quieter now. She was hurt when you left. This job is probably what she needs. A chance to get away like you."

Clara felt her heart start to sink and the light faded from her eyes. She hadn't meant to hurt Hannah. She had just been so angry and hurt herself. "And Mr. Andrews?"

He turned away then and went back around the stall, busying himself by putting the envelope in a safe spot and not looking at her. "He's, well, Mr. Andrews' has been-um-he-"

"Miles, please, what's wrong?" Clara didn't like where this was going and the longer he stuttered around, the more worried she was starting to feel.

"Clara," Sighing in defeat he turned towards her and for the first time she noticed the dark circles under his eyes and how tired he looked. "He's not good. Right after you left he fell ill with something. He managed to go about his days, but last week..." Shaking his head he looked away.

Last week she should have gone back. Last week she should have kept her promise. "Last week?"

Sighing again he looked up at her. "He took a turn for the worst. He's dying, Clara."

Clara felt all of the breath rush out of her lungs. Dying? How could he be dying? He seemed fine before she had left, how could he...he couldn't... "No." She shook her head in denial. No. He couldn't die. "I have to go see him. I-"

"Clara, I'm sorry, but I'm not sure that's the best idea. I-"

"No, Miles. I need to see him. I-I lov-" Clara stopped herself and shook her head. What was she even saying? If she didn't love Bran, how could she love Ian still? "Tell everyone I'm coming back. I'll go to the castle and pack a bag and then I'm coming to help. There must be something I can do. I-"

"Clara-"

"No! Miles, he was there for me when I was sick. He barely left my side the entire time! The least I can do is be there for him." Turning she started to run back through the marketplace not letting him say another word.


	21. Chapter 21

Clara wasted no time hurrying up to her room and throwing a bag together. She didn't need much, mostly just the simple dresses she had brought with her to begin with.

"I was told you rushed in, not taking the time to talk to anyone. You ran past my mother, dismissed your maid...Clara, what's going?" Bran had come into her room, but Clara didn't turn towards him. She needed to pack fast and get out of here. She had planned to send a letter back explaining what was going on, but she should have known Bran would come to her.

"Mr. Andrews' is sick and I made a promise to go back, Bran. It's time I returned." Clara paused and glanced around her room trying to think of what else she needed.

"No. We have so much to do here for our wedding, surely Ian has a very capable staff. You-"

"Bran, please." Turning Clara looked at him, begging for him to understand and not waste more time. "I have to go. He's done so much for me. He was there when I was close to death my self. He needs me and I have to go..."

He was quiet for a few moments, simply looking at her, reading her. "You love him." It wasn't a question.

"What?"

"You love him." He barely blinked an eye as he said it. "You've never taken off the ring he gave you even after I gave you one. You play and stare at it when you're lost in thought, but never mine. You get so defensive when we talk about him and you just...change... You soften and smile and...it's written all over you. You're in love with Ian."

Clara shook her head, looking away, and spotting her hair brush. She didn't have time for this. "I'm marrying you, Bran, I-" She tried to move to get the brush, but his hands on her arms stopped her.

"No." There was little emotion playing on his face and Clara realized for the first time she wasn't the only one good at faking her emotions. "I was an idiot to think you could love me. Nothing ever goes the way I want it too." His eyes softened for a moment as he brushed the back of his fingers tenderly against her cheek. "Please remember that I truly did fall in love with you, Clara. I really did want to marry you."

Clara stared up at him confused and slightly frightened at the way he was talking. "Bran-"

"What did Ian tell you about how he was changed?"

"What?" Of all the things to talk about, he wanted to know how Ian was cursed now?

"Trust me, Clara. Just tell me what he told you."

Hesitating she tried reading him, but he was back to the emotionless stranger he had been moments before. She didn't understand what was going on, but he wouldn't let her jerk out of his hold either. "He told me that he and a good friend were hunting in the woods. That they found an abandoned cottage with a room beneath the floor boards filled with gold and silver. They took some, but when they returned a witch greeted them. They were supposed to return everything or else she would curse them. His friend did, but he didn't."

Bran barely reacted to the story. "He would put the blame on himself. Ian always was the better man." Releasing her he turned away, but she found she still couldn't move.

Clara didn't understand anything Bran was saying. "Bran, please, what's going on? Why-"

"Sit, Clara. I have a story myself to tell you. You aren't going to like it, but if you are in love with Ian..." He shook his head as he turned back to her with eyes that betrayed a lifetime's worth of pain and regret. "I've hurt my friend enough."

* * *

Clara sat on her bed watching Bran pace back and forth like a caged animal. He was tense and conflicted, but every time she tried to speak he silenced her.

"Ian and I have been friends since we were young. His father was a gardener here and used to bring him. His mother died shortly after he was born so while his sister went to a neighbors, his father brought him here. He was supposed to work, but he was the only boy close to my age in the castle so we became fast friends. We would play for hours every day and grew far closer than brothers." Bran stopped his pacing by a window and stared out it with unseeing eyes.

"I was jealous of Ian as we got older. Even though I was a prince, his good looks attracted ladies more. We were both miserable though. I was just starting to reap the consequences of my father's actions and was being drilled hard on the crisis. I didn't just have a family, but an entire kingdom's problems on my shoulders. Ian's father at the time was in poor health and him and his sister were barely staying afloat. And no matter how I tried he wouldn't accept my charity. He was barely any happier than I. We were both in desperate need of something to help our families.

I escaped from the castle one afternoon, angry that I was having to pay for my father's mistakes. I started out just going for a walk but then I stumbled upon the cottage. It looked abandoned. There had been nothing left inside. Well, you know this story. I found gold and silver and took some home. I purchased the ships with it and put Ian in charge of them so I could pay him and help his family. Ian wanted to return to the cottage with me, but I wouldn't let him. I was being selfish. I wanted all of it to help the kingdom and myself." Bran paused and looked away from the window.

Sighing he turned around and sat down on a trunk by the foot of her bed, still not looking at her and looking more defeated than ever. "You know this part too. The witch was there, told me to bring it all back or I'd be cursed. Even paralyzed my leg as a reminder. I was able to bring all of it back besides what I had used to pay for the ships." He rubbed the leg that was no longer paralyzed, but he could still feel phantom aches in from time to time.

"How...how did Ian end up cursed then?" Clara didn't understand how he had ended up cursed when everything was falling on Bran's shoulder's. What had he done?

Sighing he shook his head sadly. "Before the witch could curse me I told her Ian had the last of the coins. I begged her to give me another chance and she did."

"You were a prince! Couldn't you have just given her it all back? Bran!"

"Clara, these coins were different. There were engravings on them that I had never seen before. She wanted her gold back. Not anyone else's." He hesitated a moment. "I told Ian what happened and I-I begged him to take my place. I was going to be a king, I couldn't be cursed! Who would take the throne then?"

"Oh, Bran..." Clara could hardly believe what she was hearing. Ian hadn't done anything to deserve what he was. All he had done was protect his friend. And even then Clara could find little to blame Bran for. He should been brave enough to take the curse for his mistakes but his intentions in taking the gold in the first place had been honorable.

"I tried to make it up to him. I gave him the house he's in now and his very own ships, but he hasn't spoken to me the same since..."

Clara sighed and moved to the end of the bed where she could take his hands. "Bran, your heart was in a good place when you took those coins. There has to be something you can say to Ian now. Maybe if we go to the witch-"

Bran shook his head. "I've done that."

"You have?"

"Yes. When someone loves him for what he is and not be tricked by wealth or anything else, the curse will break for him. But until she has her coins back she will still get her revenge." Bran still couldn't look at her.

Clara stared at him and shook her head. "But I-I loved him and it-"

"Did you tell him? Did you love who you knew to be Gray? Trickery won't work, Clara. You have to love Ian for what he is, not what he could be." Bran glanced up to see her shake her head. "It gets worse-"

"But I love him! If I go and tell him I could-"

"Understand this, Clara. If you go and he changes back...she will come after me." Bran searched her eyes.

"Then why are you telling me all of this, Bran? You could have never said a word and I would never have known."

Bran hesitated and looked away again. "Remember that I love you, Clara." Sucking in a breath he studied his hands. "He told me everything about you after he realized he fell in love with you. The moment he bought you from your stepmother...I had to do something. I haven't been able to set the kingdom right yet and if you broke the curse..." Letting the hopeless thought go, he glanced up at her. "...I've seen you in the market with him and I knew who you were the moment you stepped into ballroom that night..."

"Bran-"

"Let me finish. I knew I had to get you away from Ian and when you showed up that night the path was perfectly laid out. Initially I only invited you here to get away from him, but...I did fall in love with you, Clara. When I asked you to marry me...I truly meant it."

Clara knew he regretted what he did, but she couldn't seem to get over the fact someone else had played her yet again. Everywhere she turned someone else was lying to her. Manipulating her. "Everyone lies to me. Everyone treats me like a plaything. Well, I'm not a toy! How could you! All because you're afraid of what the curse would do to you? Look what's it done to Ian! He was innocent of everything! All he's done is look out for you! And he still carried on with his obligations! And what do you do to him?" Standing up she backed away from him, disgusted by him.

"Clara, please! I know that. That's why I'm letting you go. That's why I told you! I didn't think you actually loved him before. After I fell in love with you I didn't think it mattered what my original intentions had been. But now I see you do. Please. Please, forgive me. I'm trying to make it right!" Bran stood up but didn't move towards her. His blue eyes were dull, mournful, and pleading.

She shook her head. "If you want to make it right, than stand up and face the consequence for what you did and stop making everyone else pay for your choices." She grabbed her bag, forgetting her hair brush. "In that you are exactly like your father."

Not able to look at him any longer she fled from the room. There was only one person she wanted to see now and she was praying she wouldn't be too late.

((I'm not sure if these little author's notes annoy you guys or not, but I have to say THANK YOU so incredibly much for all of the comments, favorites, alerts, and views! It means the world to me to know you all are reading this story and enjoying it :) I also wanted to let you know that the story is finished. I have all the parts uploaded and just waiting to be published :) A chapter a day unless something comes up then definitely every other day. There will be 26 chapters in all. Within the next couple chapters I may ask you all for your opinion on a future story I've been toying with, but first I want to see if my ideas can even pan out. :) If they don't I may have to tweak the ending to this one a bit, haha. But I'll let you all know. But thank you so much again for reading! And definitely continue to let me know your thoughts ;) ))


	22. Chapter 22

The carriage was still waiting for Clara as she raced out of the castle and stumbled up into it. She was so scared that she was going to be too late. That in those long few minutes she had been talking to Bran something had happened to Ian. That he had taken a turn for the worst. That she wouldn't make it back in time to tell him-

She was shaken from her thoughts as the carriage lurched over the uneven path. They were going faster than what was safe, but Clara had insisted. She didn't care of the carriage became damaged. It could be fixed and replaced. The man waiting for her could not.

When they arrived Clara jumped from the carriage before it even had a chance to properly stop. She hurried up the steps, tripping on her extravagant gown. As she practically fell through the doors, Hannah hurried into the entryway startled from all the commotion, a dusting cloth in hand.

"Clara!"

"Please, Hannah, where is he?" Moving to her friend she frantically searched her friend's eyes.

"Who?"

"Mr. An-Ian. Where is Ian?"

Confused Hannah stared back at her for a brief moment and gestured to the stairs. "His room, but Clara, he-"

"I know. Miles told me, that's why I came back. Don't worry I'm not here to yell at him." Clara started to turn, but Hannah caught her arm.

"Wait! Clara, I'm so sorry for everything! I didn't know the curse could be broken until Norah told me after I left you with the prince. She told me how much Mr. Andrews loved you and that-"

A brief, small, understanding smile turned up Clara's lips. "It's okay, Hannah. I forgive you. I know you had your reasons and you didn't mean to really hurt me." She tried again to leave but Hannah held her back clearly still not at peace with what had happened in the past. "Please, Hannah. We can talk later, but I need to go see him. Please..." Hannah hesitated but finally nodded and released her.

Without hesitation Clara raced up the steps, slowing only when she reached his bedroom. She had never before been inside but now she didn't even knock. She just opened the door and peered almost shyly inside.

It was dark despite the sunlight outside. The heavy curtains were drawn and only a candle burned by his bedside. It was a simple room. Not overly ornate, done in a palette of blues and greens like the sea, but right then Clara didn't take the time to notice the details of his personal room. Instead her eyes went to the bed where he laid, covered in a thick blanket and she noticed the eerily cool chill in the room.

Softly shutting the door behind her, Clara crossed the room with careful, silent footsteps, not wanting to wake him if he slept.

"Hannah?" His voice, usually a smooth deep sound, was rough, dry sounding and more of a gravelly bark.

Clara shook her head as she stepped up his bedside. "No. It's me, Clarabell." Her soft amber brown eyes took in the sight of him. He was gaunt, the marred skin stretched and sunken. His lips were cracked and his eyes were yellowed and puffy, but still a piercing green that touched her very heart when he focused on her.

"Clara?" He sounded like he was half in a daze. More gone than with her.

Her voice caught in her throat as she managed a wavering smile. "Yes, Ian. I'm here." Sitting gently beside him she found his dry, icy, and shaking hands and held them between hers, trying to warm them. "You are half frozen. I should light a fire..." But she didn't want to leave. Didn't want to turn away for even a second now that she saw him. Saw how far gone he was.

"No, please. Don't go." There was such desperation in his voice that she had to softly hush him.

"Shh. I'm not going anywhere, Ian. I'm right here. I won't leave you."

That seemed to relax him and he settled back down, his eyes closing. "Good...good."

Her eyes welled as she watched him fall into a fitful sleep. His breathing was so shallow and he looked like it was taking everything in him just to take another breath. She knew she should light a fire but it took a long while before she could find it in her to let his hands go and when she did she was only able to run to the door and call for Hannah as he started to thrash about.

Rushing back to his side she hushed him and tried to hold him still. "Ian. Ian, it's okay. Please...it's ok...please, just stop." Tears were coursing down her cheeks as she laid her hands on his arms and the moment she touched him he stilled. "Oh, Ian..."

Hannah found her sitting beside him, stilling holding his arms, her head bent down and tears dripping onto his chest. "Clara. Maybe you should-" Concerned she was about to lay a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder when she stopped at Clara's even, commanding words.

"It is freezing in this room, Hannah. Please start a fire. I would, but..." Her voice was strong and sure, but Clara didn't look back at her friend. She knew she couldn't do that without breaking. "Please, Hannah."

Hannah looked from Ian to Clara, silently nodded and quickly went about building the fire.

Clara stayed like she was for sometime before she trusted letting him go. Her finger was hurting so much. It was a strange sensation that one finger hurt so badly and so suddenly, but as she looked down she realized it was the same finger that his ring was on. It felt like ice wrapping around her finger. Hissing she pulled it off and Ian groaned.

Placing the ring on the bedside table Clara leaned over him. She tenderly cupped his cheek with her hand and willed him to open his eyes again. "Ian?" It was barely a whisper, but the room was so silent she may as well have yelled it. "Ian, please wake up. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left. I should've trusted you. I was just so hurt that you didn't tell me you were Gray. I loved you so much, I still do..." Biting her lip she stayed like for a long while. Her eyes drifting over his face, willing him to wake up...remembering every inch of it. She shouldn't have left. She shouldn't have run away. She should have given him a chance. But from the very beginning she never really had. She was such a fool.

With fresh tears staining her cheeks she laid down beside him with her ear against his chest, straining to hear his quiet heartbeat. Unable to rest even though she felt so tired, her eyes watched the flickering flames and within them she saw her memories with him dancing in the flames. The day in the market when they met, underneath the tree after he had caused a fight buying her rose, laughing by her bedside when she was sick, in the gardens here showing her the sprouts that would be her mother's roses...so many bittersweet memories filled her mind as she laid beside him praying for his life.

* * *

"Clara?" Startled from her thoughts she looked up at him as he suddenly woke up. His voice was frantic and his eyes were wide as he fought to sit up with strength he didn't have. "Clara? Clara, where are you? Clara!"

Sitting up, she grabbed his hand and laid the other on his cheek. "Shh, Ian. It's okay, Ian. I'm here."

Unclouded, his bright, half crazed eyes fixed on her, widened and then softened. "You came back...you came back."

A ghost of a smile touched her lips and she nodded. "Yes. I came back."

His eyes changed. They saddened and he looked far worse than ever. "I'm sorry. So sorry..."

"Hush. Ian, I forgive you. Please don't leave me-"

"Leave! You're not leaving! Please don't leave-" Again he was struggling to sit up, to move. To hold on to her, but his weakened, withered body refused to do anything but unnaturally twist and turn and convulse.

"Ian! Ian, please stop! Stop!" Terrified she again tried holding him down. To keep him from hurting himself. "I'm not leaving. Not ever. I promise. Please, stop!" That seemed to sedate him and he stilled once again.

"Not ever?" There was a childlike lit in his voice that was too bright. Too hopeful.

She nodded. "Not ever again. Ian, I'm staying. I love you."

"You love me?" That same eerily enthusiastic voice brightened even more and a broad grin stretched his parched lips thin, cracking them and making them bleed. But the fantastic delight didn't reach his eyes. "I'll change back. For you. I'll be human. You'll love me then. As a human."

Tears were welling in her eyes again making it hard for her to see him as she shook her head. "Oh, Ian, I love you now. As you are."

"No!" He shouted the word and all of the strange, overtly happiness left his face as he became suddenly angry. "I am a beast! No one can love me! No one!"

Confused Clara stared down at him unsure what to say now. So she decided to just repeat the words she thought would break the spell. That might heal him even as it seemed they were doing nothing but upsetting him. "I love you, Ian. I love you as Gray as Mr. Andrews as Ian as a beast. I love all of you."

"No! Not a beast! No! I'm not a beast!" He started to thrash again and with tears still streaming, she tried again to hold him down. "It wasn't my fault! I'm not supposed to be a beast! It wasn't me! ...It wasn't me!"

This time no matter what Clara tried to say nothing seemed to calm him, still she didn't move. She stayed, holding him down. Stopping him from hurting herself and crying. And he eventually stopped. Curling up beside him her body shook as sobs wracked through her body. This wasn't the man she knew. It was the fever. The disease talking, but she couldn't leave him. He was crazed, but he was somewhere in his riddled mind. In brief moments she could just make him out through his eyes before he slipped away again.

* * *

A few more times during the night he woke up asking for her. The strange giddy happiness would return when he saw her and they would go through the whole thing again. Somehow he would bring up her leaving and it would start a whole new round of convulsions and desperate screams. Sometimes she could calm him, but increasingly she could not. He had to find his own peace.

After one particular long round where he had managed to swipe her across the cheek, Clara stumbled back from his bed. He was finally back asleep, but she couldn't do it any more. She couldn't watch him slip farther and farther away from her. Finding the door she slipped out it and took a deep breath as she closed the door behind her and leaned against it.

"He's been like that the past couple days..." Clara jumped hearing Hannah's voice and her eyes flew to where both she and Norah sat across the hall watching her. "He calls out for you. Sometimes he mistaked Norah or I for you, but mostly he was fighting with himself..."

"I thought he could see me. Hear me...I'm not sure any more. Even when I barely say a word he talks as if...he's talking to a ghost." Clara looked away and slid down to the floor, defeated and exhausted. "He looks dehydrated and hungry. Have you tried feeding him?"

Norah nodded. She looked as if she hadn't slept in days and far older than she ever had. "I've tried. I use to be able to get at least a bowl of soup in him every day. Now, maybe a spoonful here and there, but he ends up thrashing."

Clara sighed softly and buried her face in her knees. Perhaps none of this would have happened if she hadn't have left. Maybe this was just all her fault. "I'm going to warm a bowl of broth. Maybe he'll eat from me." Standing up, her knees almost gave out and Hannah had to lurch from her seat to catch her.

"You're exhausted, Clara. You need sleep and something to eat yourself. Why don't you rest? We can watch over him we-" Clara could see the pure concern in her friend's eyes.

"No. I'd rather be with him while I can." Pulling away from Hannah she tried to make it down the stairs but her legs gave out again and the only reason she didn't tumble down them was because she caught herself on the railing.

Hannah rushed to her side, wrapping her arm around her waist and helping her the rest of the way down.

"I'll fix the soup. Why don't you at least nap until it's ready?" Norah was on her other side, her slipping around her and helping Hannah get her to a couch in the sitting room.

"Promise me you'll wake me up. Please. I want-"

Norah held up her hand as Hannah lifted her legs to lay her on the couch. "Hannah and I will wake you. We promise."

Clara looked from one to the other looking for a lie, but finding none. Nodding she rested her head back and within moments was asleep.


	23. Chapter 23

Clara dreamed of a garden bigger than she could ever walk through. The skies were blue, the sun bright and warm, and everywhere she looked were roses. Of every color and shape and size. There was a gentle hum of working bees and sweet notes of chirping birds. There was a calming sound of splashing water in the distance from a fountain.

It was peaceful and perfect. Her feet were bare as she walked through the cool, soft grass in a snow white gown.

"Clara!" A familiar tall, dark haired man appeared from behind a rose bush with outstretched arms.

"Papa!" Running she crashed against him and despite how grown she was he swept her up in his arms and twirled her around. "Oh, Papa, I've missed you!"

"I've missed you!"

"Charles, are you going to keep our daughter all to yourself?" He moved to reveal a smiling blonde haired woman behind him.

"Mama?" Clara stared at the woman whose face she had long forgotten, but seemed so terribly familiar.

"Oh, my sweet Clara, look at you! You've grown into a lady!" Clara rushed into the woman's arms.

"Oh, Mama..." Clara soaked in the feeling of finally being with her family again, of being loved and wanted. "Are we in heaven?"

Her mother laughed and shook her head. "Oh no, Clara. There is magic flowing in your house tonight. We are in the in-between."

"In-between?" Clara stared up at the woman confusedly.

"Yes," Clara glanced back as her father spoke. "I'm afraid there are forces fighting over someone dying in your household. When that happens the in-between opens and for a time the dead and alive can meet."

Clara's heart sank as she looked back and forth between her parents as she tried to understand what was going on. "Ian?"

"I'm afraid so, my sweet."

The trio were silent for a time as Clara fought with her emotions. She was beyond happy to see her parents, but if the cost was losing Ian it seemed too high a price for even this.

"Come, Clara," Her mother's voice was soft, gentle and full of understanding. "Let's enjoy the roses."

As they moved around the garden, recounting their lives and memories together, they passed many people she didn't know or recognize. Others who had come to the in-between in desperate hopes of seeing family.

"I don't understand. I thought you said there was magic in my house...how are there so many people?" Clara stared around them at the groups of people that now seemed to be overcrowding the garden.

"Some just hope that there is a chance they can see the living they have unfinished business with. They are desperate and take the chance even with the probability is very small. Others know someone you know and are here in hopes they were with you."

"Clara!" A male voice behind her caused her to turn. She didn't recognize him. Couldn't name him. But he seemed so familiar. "Before you left, I wanted to congratulate you on your marriage!"

She stared at him trying to place him, but it was as if the memory was just out of reach. "What?"

"Your marriage. Or maybe it hasn't happened yet. The prince, your ring is from him, isn't it?" The man gestured to her hand and she was surprised to see the ring still on her finger. Hadn't she taken the diamond ring off? Hadn't she given it back to Bran?

"Oh...yes, it is."

"Well, congratulations. I hope you are happy." He offered her a smile before he turned and left just as suddenly as he had came.

"Who-" Clara started as she turned back to her parents.

"Someone you have met. If he knows your name, you have met him somewhere in time. He could be anyone even just a brief acquaintance." Her mother smiled at her and looped her arm through hers. "We don't have much more time. Are you taking care of my roses?"

Clara blushed and looked away. "My stepmother tore them out at home. They were replanted though where I am now."

"Good." Stopping she turned towards her daughter. "I am so proud of you Clara. I have missed you so much, but one day we'll be together again forever. All of us." Smiling she turned to her husband who stepped over and rested his hands on her shoulders.

They looked so happy. Her father looked younger than she had ever seen him when he had been alive and the way he looked at her mother she knew how deep their love must run.

"I am sorry for your stepmother, Clara. I was only trying to do what was best for you. I never meant-" Her father looked at her regret shining in his eyes, but Clara could only shake her head.

"I know. It's okay, Papa. It's okay."

"Clara, darling, you mustn't let the lessons your stepmother engraved into your very back rule you forever. You are not the vulnerable, useless girl she tried to make you. And the village is changing, Clara. Men won't rule over us forever. A woman became a blacksmith's apprentice. You have all the tools before you to do something great with your life." Her mother gently stroked her cheek with eyes full of love. Clara at a loss for words could only nod. The queen had said similar things to her. And she still hadn't figured out what other purpose her life could have, but both seemed so sure there was one for her. Not just being a maid for the rest of her life.

Her father opened his arms as Clara stepped up into them and they all clung to each other tightly. No one wanted to let go and lose this, but all things must end.

"The in-between is closing. Remember that we love you, Clara. We always will." Her father smiled at her.

"And we will always be here. Watching you, waiting for you." Her mother kissed her forehead just before Clara felt something pulling her back.

"I love you! Mama, papa!" She was being pulled farther and farther back into the darkness until it surrounded her and she could no longer see the light of the garden.

* * *

"Clara. Clara. Clara, the soup is ready."

Clara felt a hand gently shaking her and she woke with a start. It took a few moments to recognize Norah's face before hers and not her mother's. Taking a deep breath she nodded and stood up on shaky feet. What had just happened? Had she been just dreaming? Had it been real?

Deciding not to think about it, she grabbed the bowl of soup with steady hands and climbed the stairs, fighting back the images of her parents. Whatever it had been it had felt so real. She could still feel the warmth of the sun on her skin and the smell of the roses.

Opening the door her eyes went to the bed, but the sheets seemed too flat. Panic rose in her as she got closer and realized that Ian was gone. "Hannah! Norah! He's gone! He's gone!" Releasing the bowl it shattered as it hit the floor, but she didn't notice. She ran to the other side of the bed, thinking he fell, but he wasn't there. She looked under the bed and threw open the curtains, but he was no where to be found.

The three of them along with Miles and Jensen searched every corner of the mansion and the gardens, but he was no where to be found. He was gone. Gone.


	24. Chapter 24

For weeks Clara was on the verge of insanity as she questioned everyone if they had seen him, but no one had. He had simply disappeared. It took weeks for Clara to come to terms with what that meant. To truly understand that he was gone and this time no matter how many green eyed men she startled by questioning and accusing, he wasn't just hiding. He was gone. Gone.

With his disappearance came a round of nightmares with faces she couldn't remember but knew were terrifying. She stopped eating and going out. The house and everything else had been left to her and Norah, but it didn't matter. Clara couldn't take over the responsibilities of running it, so Norah did.

It took weeks and months, but eventually they found a new normal. A routine in which Clara never left the house. She sat in the gardens or in his study, not talking. Just staring. Trapped in the recesses of her own mind. Mad with grief. The prince even visited in hopes of bringing her out of it, but even that eventually stopped as it became quite apparent it was useless.

Then just as quickly as Clara had mentally left, she came back. One night she went to bed muttering nonsense about Ian and roses and an in-between and the next she was up, dressing in her maid's uniform and in the kitchens scrubbing at the silver.

Hannah and Norah were cautious around Clara at first, not trusting that she wouldn't slip away from them again, but there was a strength about Clara now and she didn't slip back.

The first thing Clara did when her mind finally cleared was return the prince's ring. He had been surprised to see her and while it was quite obvious he still had feelings for her, this time she made it clear she did not return them. They parted as friends, but nothing more.

After that all she wanted was the emerald ring Ian had given her. But no matter how hard they looked, it seemed to have disappeared with its owner.

When Clara seemed ready to handle it Norah told her all about how she was Ian's sister. How their father had died shortly before he was changed and how Ian had been given this home from the prince. She learned how deeply the prince had regretted his actions and how he had showered Ian with gifts. Ian had been too proud too accept it and instead built his money first off of managing Bran's shipping fleet and then creating his own.

She told Clara how she had to stop her from going with the prince that night. That she feared Ian would've let her go off with the prince in defeat and how she worried the prince's actions may not have been the noblest. She apologized and Clara forgave her for everything as she did Hannah.

Miles finally proposed to Norah and while the two married and set up a house on the grounds, they didn't leave. Hannah did. She went to help Sarah and start living her dream as a seamstress.

Clara would wander the empty house lost in the memories that seemed to scream at her from the walls. One afternoon she escaped to Ian's study and was sitting behind his desk when he noticed the paperwork for his ships courses spread across it. Norah had given responsibility to a friend of Miles to keep up the business, but Clara knew from her father that a man ran his own business. And this had been Ian's. And despite his wish to be at sea, he had adored it.

With a newfound purpose, both one she wanted and one her mother could be proud of, Clara started visiting Miles' friend every afternoon and learned what was needed to manage and run ships. It was hard and there was a lot of information, but she had learned to be a lady in two short months. She could learn to run Ian's business just as easily.

Throughout the winter and spring Clara studied hard and eventually she learned what she needed to and on a stuffy, hot day in the summer Clara took back Ian's ships. And it didn't take long for all the sailors to learn they were being employed by a _girl._

* * *

"I wish you'd let me hire another maid, Clara! You are the lady of the house now! You shouldn't be buying what we need in the marketplace!" Norah was in the kitchen preparing a chicken for dinner as Clara washed her hands from cutting roses.

"We don't need another maid, Norah. It's a waste of money. Just because I'm a lady of the house doesn't mean I can't work. Just look at you." She aimed Norah a look before drying her hands and picking up her basket of newly cut roses.

"Hmpf!" Norah raised her chin and clucked her tongue in disapproval. "At least sell those roses for more than 5 coppers! You could get so much more-"

"Norah," The gentle chiding tone in Clara's voice was softened by a smile. "5 is a fair price. I'll see you at dinner." She kissed the woman's cheek and left.

Clara walked slowly toward the marketplace. She was dressed in a simple pale blue dress, but everyone knew her better. She had more than enough money to dress in dresses that rivaled the queen's if she so well chose.

Before she started selling she stopped by Thom's stall as usual and enjoyed the smell of fresh bread and cakes. Behind it Molly played with a doll and Charlie, grown a foot now since he had first moved in with Thom, was helping a customer.

"Hello, Thom."

"Good morning, Clara." Grinning Thom handed her, her favorite pastry.

"How's Sarah?" She still was able to see Hannah often enough that she knew her friend was doing above and beyond well. Between her and Sarah they were pulling in more money than they knew what to do with. Which was good considering the next thing Thom said.

"Pregnant." Thom laughed. "The midwife confirmed it this morning. We're going to have another!"

"Oh, Thom, that's wonderful! Tell Sarah congratulations from me?" Looking down in her basket, she pulled out the best looking rose. "And give her this."

Thom smiled and took the rose from her. "Thank you, Clara," he paused as his caring eyes assessed her. He knew well what she had been through. "The Blackwell's are having a celebration for their daughter's wedding. Why don't you come? Donner will be there..." There was a sly grin on his lips at the suggestion. Ever since the summer heat had started again, Thom was trying to pair her up with various men he deemed worthy. But Clara wasn't interested. She had no intention on marrying. She had found the one man she loved and she had lost him. There would be no one else she would ever care for in that way.

"I'll think about it, Thom." She smiled and started to turn away.

"You're so young, Clara. You deserve a family."

"I have one, Thom. I have you, Sarah, Molly, Charlie, Norah, Hannah, Miles, Jensen...that's a big family if you ask me."

"You know what I meant, Clara..."

She simply smiled at him and left to sell her roses. Yes. She knew what he meant. But they had had this discussion before.

"Roses! Roses! 5 coppers for a rose! You won't find these else where! Roses!" Many people stopped Clara and bought them from her and others Clara chased after herself. But as always they were selling.

She was about to stop a young couple when she heard her name. Turning she watched Miles run towards her.

"Clara!" He puffed as he stopped in front of her, red faced.

"Miles! What is it? Here, come sit down. Catch your breath!" She tried leading him to a wooden bench but he stopped her.

"No. Your ship. The Serpent. It's docked." Miles was having trouble catching his breath and he paused to see if that would help.

"Wonderful. But I don't understand what the problem is. Jensen was going to head down and collect-"

"No! The sailors heard your in charge now. They don't like the idea of a woman telling them what to do. They are protesting. Threatening to abandon the ship."

Clara stared flabbergasted at Miles. Her sailors were threatening to leave her? Threatening to terminate their employment all because she was a woman? What a bunch of- "Rotten tomatoes! If they think they don't need this job than that is their loss. There are plenty of men who would scramble at the chance to sail. At the chance of a job." Clara straightened, annoyed that they dared treat her in such a way.

Surprised at Clara's backbone Miles shook his head. "Clara. We can reason with them. I will talk-"

"No. I will talk to them, Miles. They are my crew, aren't they?" Clara ignored Miles protest as she started off towards the docks with a determined stride. Once she had been a frightened little girl who balked at confrontation and hated eyes on her, but she wasn't that little girl any more. She was a grown woman and she was tired of being played with just because she was supposed to be a weak lady. She wasn't weak. And she wasn't going to let anyone else rule her life any more. She could manage the ships as well as any man if not better.

Clara walked with her back ramrod straight and with an air that demanded attention. Both quirks she had picked up from her time in the castle.

The men on docks stared at her as women hardly ever went there. It wasn't a woman's place. Or at least not a respected woman's place, but Clara didn't care. She had something to settle and prove once and for all. Both to herself and to everyone else.

((Thank you all so much again for reading, commenting, favoring, and alerting! It is truly amazing :) I wanted to ask your opinion on a sequel. Bran's story pretty much ends here. Currently in the ending there's a rumor of what happens to him up to that point, but that's about as far as it goes. The witch would never leave him alone if Ian's curse was broken (even if it was his death or not). I have a basic plan laid out for his story and it would be another cross or squishing together of two fairy tales. My question is do you guys like Bran enough to read his own story or would you rather I just add a little more information about what happens to him at the end of this one? :) ))


	25. Chapter 25

She knew exactly where the Serpent docked and she ignored the whistles and rude comments of the men she passed, her eyes fixed on her target. Gathering her skirts she glanced at the men near her ship and walked across the plank, jumping onto her ship. Beneath her the floor dipped and swelled, but despite never being on boat, she was steady. Glancing around her, her eyes moved from man to man as they stopped whatever they were doing and simply gawked.

"Are you the crew of the Serpent?" Clara raised her chin and looked around her as they assembled around her.

"Aye. And who are you?" A tall graying man stepped forward. She could see the muscles in his arm strain threateningly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Clarabell Crossley. I was told my crew was deciding to abandon ship like a pack of rats after a rough sea voyage. Is this true?"

A blonde haired man laughed. "You're a brave lass calling us rats. What rat among you is going to help you when we decide to drag you below deck?" He took a step forward looking at her with eyes that would have once terrified her.

Clara stiffened but held her ground. She knew Miles would be rounding up some help and quickly be coming for her, but he'd never make it if these men decided soon that she wasn't worth their time. "A rat that cherishes his head." That man them all laugh, but Clara didn't find the humor. "Here and now your employment is terminated. All of you. If you are unhappy with the situation, you can leave. There are plenty of men that would rather be in your shoes. And they would be far more grateful than your sorry faces."

There was no laughter this time, simply looks of contempt.

"Now, now, lass, which one of us agreed we were the rats wanting to abandon ship?" This was the graying man who had spoken before looking none too happy at her threat.

"You're denying it?" Clara raised an eyebrow but no one responded. "Whose idea was this? It is obvious you are loyal to whoever suggested this even if you aren't all so eager to lose your jobs. Give him up and keep your jobs or all of you get off my ship." Her tone was hard, definite. She would not be bullied by a group of men she knew would rather drown her now more than anything else.

"Oh! _My lady_, you certainly know how to make friends." There was a note of humor in his sneer, but it wasn't until some of the men shuffled that she saw who the voice belonged to. He leaned lazily against the side of the boat, relaxed, as if this was a bore to him. He was around her age with a rough stubble along his jaw giving his handsome face a hard, dangerous edge. His dark hair was tousled from the wind that seemed to always whip around the docks and every bit of him was dull and dirty from the voyage. "You think forcing the crew to give up their friend will win your favor?"

"How else will I earn their respect? A man would do the same as I."

Scoffing he straightened and started toward her. "If you were a man your crew wouldn't be eager to abandon ship."

He was taller than her. A good head taller, but she refused to let him intimidate her. Instead she lifted her chin more as she looked up at him. "So you don't deny it. The crew wants to abandon ship."

Something flashed within his eyes. He had trapped himself. "I suggested it."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

He smirked down at her. "So now what, _my lady_," his tone was mocking as he said the title, "you have your traitor."

Looking away from him, she looked at each of her other crew members. "Each of you will sign new contracts with the ship as soon as we are done unloading. If you are unhappy by the new management, then you may leave with final payment. If you choose to stay you will note a twenty percent raise in your pay." She couldn't help a smile blossom on her lips as she noted their surprise. "I've been looking at the books close enough. All of you were very loyal to Mr. Andrews and some of you have spent your whole lives on this ship." She looked at the graying man. "None of you have had a raise in quite sometime, so if you are as loyal to me as you were to him, you deserve such a raise in your pay."

Clara glanced up at the traitor. "Except you. I can't have you around upsetting the peace of my ship. You will collect your final pay and what you do after that is none of my concern, but you will not be returning to my ship." Looking back at her crew she raised an eyebrow at them. "Have we settled this nonsense then?" They yelled their agreement and then scurried about finishing their jobs.

Clara turned and was about to climb back onto the plank to shore when someone caught her arm. Whirling she face the traitor. "You can't take my job." But instead of angry, he sounded amused.

Clara shrugged. "You seem to have a hard time accepting my place as your employer. It's better for us both if you find another." Yanking her arm out of his hold she climbed up the plank and walked down back to the docks.

As she headed back toward the market with her rose basket still on her arm she passed Miles and a group of men she recognized. She paused long enough to tell the stunned group about the new contracts for the sailors before she went back on her way. She needed to finish selling her flowers and buy what they needed for the week before everything closed up for the day.

* * *

Normally Clara enjoyed selling the flowers, but as she picked up the last one she really just wanted get home. As she decided she was just going to take the last rose home she heard a voice behind her wanting claim to it and she turned to find the traitor.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "I find it hard to believe you have a sweetheart in this town."

He dug for the money in his purse at his waist and flashed her a roguish grin. "I have sweethearts _everywhere,_ little bird." Handing her the coppers he took the rose. "What's a lady doing out here selling roses?"

Clara shrugged as she put the money away. "It has to be done. That and the shopping, so if you'll excuse me..." She turned and headed towards the vendors, but the traitor was on her heels.

"Don't you have servants for this?"

"Why? I am perfectly able and I'd rather the money go elsewhere." Stepping up to the fruit vendor she smiled and asked for three baskets of the rotten berries, that seemed to shut the traitor up for a few long seconds.

"You'd rather spend it on rotten berries?" He sounded incredulous.

Sighing tiredly, but she politely smiled up at him. Traitor or not, she could be nice. "The berries go to three families who cannot afford them. They won't accept perfect baskets, but they'll accept these. They eat what they can salvage and they turn the rest into paints." Taking the baskets she handed the coins to the vendor. The same amount of coins she would have spent on three perfect baskets.

"He just robbed you! You shouldn't have a paid a copper for those sorry baskets! You-" He sounded so offended and angry that she couldn't help a curious look up at him.

"And you should know better than anyone how much he needs those coppers." Stepping back she looked him over, but he looked like he had spent a lifetime near the seas, working. He also looked vaguely familiar. She searched her memory for his face, but it was as if it is was just out of reach. "Do I...Do I know you?"

Surprised he stared down at her, a smirk sliding onto his lips. "Unless you are a lady of the night..."

Shooting him a disgusted look, she brushed past him and went off and towards a building with a bunch of children in ragged clothing playing with sticks. Despite their disheveled appearance, they were well fed and rested. Walking inside the building there were crude, but definite beds everywhere. Clara weaved around them and through a room filled with women. There were a few looms that women sat at creating rugs and bolts of fabric. Others were by the windows embroidering on cloth. More were spinning clay into bowls and plates. Others still were painting intricate designs on the hardened bowls and vases.

"Clara!" An older dark haired woman enveloped Clara in a hug.

"I brought the berries." Clara handed the baskets to the woman who passed them out to the various women who had requested them.

"Thank you, Clara. Heaven knows where we'd all be without you."

Clara grinned. "My money hardly does anything here any more. Between you all and the men...you are sustaining yourselves!"

The woman shook her head. "But it was you who started this. If it-" She then noticed the man lingering in the door way. "Clara, who's that?"

Clara glanced over her shoulder dismayed to see the traitor still following her. "He was a traitor on my ship. He's been following me around. I suspect he wants his job back and this is the best way he knows how to get it back. By annoying me."

"He's awfully handsome..."

"He also has a mouth like a pig stye."

"Well, you can't have it all, Clara..."

Clara rolled her eyes. "The paint?" The woman seemed to remember herself and brought the paint to Clara.

As Clara passed the traitor she paused on the way out as he spoke. "You started this?"

She nodded and couldn't help the pride lit her voice and light her eyes. "Yes. It was the prince's idea, but I started it. The poorest of the poor come here for rest and food. In turn they are then put to work. The women as you see and the men in fields I also purchased."

There was a hint of admiration in his eyes as he glanced around and then looked back down at her. He continued to follow her out, pausing only to charm a young girl who sat away from her friends by giving her his rose. He then hurried to catch up to her as she moved on to the next building where a family lived and whom she traded a man the paints for a pair of finely crafted men's shoes.

"He is a shoemaker. His wife died last year and he has a daughter who loves to paint. He can not afford the paints so I provide them in turn for shoes." Clara explained to the traitor before he had a chance to question her and led him to an old woman selling shoes. The same woman who had sold the soft gold shoes with rose embroidery so long ago.

She handed the shoes over to the woman and in return got a pair of plain, simple black ones and some change. "This is the last stop." Clara made her way further through the market and stepped up to an old vendor with piles and piles of shoes. "John," She smiled at the man and they exchanged simple pleasantries before she brought out the shoes. "I was wondering if you could sell these? I find they don't fit my feet..."

"Oh! These look brand new! They'll fetch a large price! Oh, Clara, are you sure? What can I give you?" John was holding the shoes as if they were close to gold.

Nodding she grinned. "Yes. And," She glanced the traitor and down to his feet and worn shoes. "What do you have that can fit my friend here?"

The traitor looked surprised and shook his head. "No, I can purchase my own shoes I-"

Clara waved him off. "It will take some time before this town changes their perception of women. Take them as a treaty of peace." John handed her a pair that she gave to him. They fit him well so they handed in his old shoes and Clara led him away.

"Does this peace treaty come with the offer of my old job?" The traitor grinned devilishly at her.

Clara shook her head. "No." As she started to head to another vendor she realized that they were all starting to pull their wares in and shut down their stalls. "Norah is going to kill me. I didn't buy anything we needed. Now I'll have to come back tomorrow."

"Well, if you're going to die, you might as well give me back my job since it won't matter one way or another..."

Clara sent him a look. Turning to face him, she offered him her hand. "Well, sir, this is where we part. I enjoyed your company and do hope you find employment." She tried to let go and leave him, but he held tight to her hand.

"You really don't recognize me, do you?" The man was grinning down at her as he stared at her somewhat surprised by something.

((Thank you all so much again :) One more chapter and this story will be finished. Because you guys seemed to like the idea of reading about Bran's story I'll start posting that one after this one is finished. :D My goal is to keep the same pace as I did with this one. Aiming for a chapter a day or at least every other or so. My mom has been in and out of the doctors the past few weeks so that's why there were more days between chapters than others. Yep, thank you all so much again, it's really amazing reading all the comments from you guys :D I hope you enjoy the ending :) ))


	26. Chapter 26

Perhaps this traitor was delusional. It would explain somethings. "I said earlier you looked familiar and you-"

"I know what I said, little bird." He was making fun of her. Laughing at her behind those depthless emerald green eyes.

Emerald green. She hadn't noticed the color of them until now. Not that it was surprising. After Ian had disappeared she had confronted many a green eyed man. But it was somewhat ironic that he had followed her around much as Gray had so long ago. Her heart twisted at the memory. She missed him dearly. She tried to hide it as best she could, but she thought about him almost every waking moment and the pain that followed was always almost more than she could bare.

"Where's your ring?"

Snapped out of her thoughts she stared up at him bewildered. "What?"

"Your ring." He paused as he looked down at her hand again. "I thought you were engaged to the prince."

She shook her head. She didn't want to start this conversation again. It had taken what seemed like forever for the town to stop asking questions. "No. I didn't love him." Pulling her hand from his she turned and tried walking away, but he kept up with her, irritatingly step for step.

"No? I heard you did."

"Well, you heard wrong." What was his problem? Why did he care? Why couldn't he leave her alone?

"Did you love someone else?"

Stopping dead in her tracks she whirled around, her eyes narrowed and fixing him to the spot. If he wanted the story, she was going to give it to him. Then maybe she'd get some peace. "Yes. I did love someone else. I loved him very much and you want to know what happened? He left. And I am still in love with him. Do you know what that's like? Living every day in love with someone you can't have? Will never see again? What kind of agony that is?" Her eyes searched his, but he didn't back down. Didn't show an ounce of regret for asking. For riling her up.

"Did he die?" The question was so blunt that it threw her off for a moment.

"He's gone. What do you think?"

"I think there's a difference between dying and disappearing."

Clara stared up at him, confused. She didn't understand what he was trying to say and she was back once again feeling like a plaything. And she hated that feeling. And she hated him. She didn't even know him.

"And yes. I do know what it's like to love someone you can't have. That you think you'll never see again." He watched her a few moments longer before he started walking, leaving her to stare after him. Cocky. And blatantly smirking, amused at her.

"How dare you..." Her voice was barely above a whisper as he walked away. "How dare you bring it up! Ask me such personal questions." Storming after him she cut in front of him, facing him and stopping him. Annoyed at him and everything he had done to her today. And annoyed at herself for letting him get to her when she was usually so good at keeping her calm. "Two can play at your game. Who was she? Who is your lost love?" The question was more of a taunt from her, daring him to give up. To say that he was lying. That he didn't know what he was talking about. Because there was no way he could.

But his eyes gentled as he stared down at her, the smirk fading from his lips. "You."

It took Clara a few long moments for the weight of the word to settle on her and then she thought it was a joke, but neither of them were close to laughing. "What...what are you saying?"

His eyes searched her, serious and soft. "I think you know exactly what I'm saying, Clara..."

Clara could feel her jaw tremble but she defiantly shook her head. "No. I don't know what you're saying. You are cruel and heartless if you think this is funny."

"I'm not laughing. This isn't a joke, Clara..." His emerald eyes watched her, all the self-satisfied and amused arrogance gone. There was something else now in his eyes and in his softened face. A look that was sending her heart racing and her mind swirling.

She shook her head harder. "No. Because if you are who you-you say you are you...you can't be. He disappeared. He left me..."

"I didn't leave. The curse broke..."

Clara could feel the tears welling her eyes. "He wasn't there. He's gone. He left me. Twice."

"I only left once."

"He lied and then he was gone," she amended.

"I lied because I...I didn't think you could love me as a monster...as a...beast..."

"He left me alone. All alone." Her voice broke as the tears spilled over her cheeks.

Reaching out he cupped her cheek and wiped at her tears with his thumb. "I thought you were in love with someone else...you took my ring off. That ring was meant for the woman I loved. When I woke up in the woods and had it back I thought...I knew the prince had proposed. You said you were engaged when I saw you-"

And suddenly it hit her. Why his face seemed so familiar and yet she couldn't ever place it. "The in-between. You were the man who came up to me..."

A momentary smile spread over his lips as he nodded. "Why would you choose a beast over a prince?"

"Because I loved you!" Realizing she was shouting, she looked up at those green eyes that she had missed dearly. "I loved you."

"I'm sorry, Clara. I'm so sorry..." He tried to wrap his arms around her and pull her against him, but she shook her head and jerked out of his hold.

"Why did you come back?" Wiping the tears with the back of her hand, she took another step away and rose her chin. All he did was hurt her and play with her.

Surprised and clearly hurt himself he let his hands drop to his side as he watched her with sorrowful eyes. "I heard the prince was engaged to some princess. I had to come find you."

"Why? So you can toy with me some more? Leave me again? That's all you do! Lie and leave!" The tears were back. "What makes you think I'd want you again?"

He shook his head and shrugged hopelessly. "I never thought you'd ever want me in the first place." He hesitated. "I love you, Clara. I always have and always will. I was hoping-"

"What? That'd be enough? That I'd forgive you?"

He looked away, unable to bare the accusations any more. Even he had has limits. This had been a bad idea. He should have known better. Man or beast, she didn't want him.

Wiping away the tears on her sleeve she took a step toward him. "You knew who I was the moment I stepped on that ship." Placing both hands square on his chest she gave him a push. "You knew _before_ I stepped on that ship I owned it. And what did you do? Give me nothing but trouble." She pushed him again and defeatedly he took a step back. "You turned my crew against me." Putting her weight into it she pushed him again and again he stepped back. "You taunted me. You followed me around again doing little else than questioning my every move. This whole time you never said a word!" She pushed him again, each time putting more into it. "I've been thinking you were dead for...and here you were right in front of me this whole afternoon and only now you tell me?" Putting all her weight and frustration into it she shoved him again and he stumbled back a few steps.

She stared at him for a few heartbeats as her anger seeped away replaced by a mix of other emotions that stormed within her. Ian could only stare back. In the past few months he had done more labor than he had in years yet it was only in these moments that he felt truly exhausted and beaten. "One way or another your crew would have turned against you unless you did something like today. You may not like my methods, but I've asked you before, what stories have you ever heard that I was kind?"

She didn't even hesitate. "Many. I've heard about all the maids you took in off the streets and slyly helped them to get the positions they desired most. Including a certain blacksmith's apprentice." She took a step towards him a flimsy smile lighting her lips. "And I know what you did for Bran."

Ian looked away and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't understand her. She was crying one moment, angry the next, and now smiling, but he got the message perfectly clear. "Do you? And...Bran, is it? That's a pretty intimate name for a prince..." There was something in the way that last sentence came out...

Her smile brightened slightly. "Are you...jealous?"

"I think you've made it perfectly clear where I stand with you. Why shouldn't I be jealous about the man you're choosing over me."

"And I thought I made it perfectly clear what my feelings were towards the prince."

Shaking his head, he scrubbed a hand tiredly over his face. "Forgive me, my lady, I shouldn't have come back." He tried to turn but she caught his arm and when he looked back her gaze had softened and the smile was gone. Without a word she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his lips down to hers. She kissed him as if it was the first and last time all jumbled into one. There was a desperate passion laced with an aching tenderness that had him slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her tight against him. He didn't care if the months of sea grime on him ruined her pretty little dress.

Reluctantly he felt her pull away, but he refused to let her go, and his emerald eyes searched her warm honey brown ones with a slight uncertainty at what she was about to say. "You shouldn't have left. And so help me if you ever do it again or treat me like a plaything like that again or-or make fun of me for buying rotten berries-"

A slight grin had worked its way onto his lips at her rant and he had enough courage with the look in her eye to dip his head, silencing the rest of it with another kiss. "I'll never leave you again. I won't lie to you. The berries...I can't make promises." He was whispering the words softly against her lips as if afraid if he pulled back to far she would have yet another sudden change of emotions and slip away from him and leave.

"I love you, Ian. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." Melting into another one of his kisses he suddenly pulled away with a bright look in his eyes, his arms dropping from around her. He studied her for a moment, hardly able to believe the words came from her lips, but then...there it was. Written all over her.

"I love you, Clara, more than you can imagine and this might be a little fast, but...it's my promise never to leave again..." Falling onto a knee in front of her, his hand dug into a pocket as he looked up at her with a roguish grin that seemed to suit him perfectly. "I don't care if you buy rotten berries or manage ten shipping fleets. I dare say I fell even more in love with you when stepped onto that ship earlier with your head held higher than most men. You barely even batted an eye when they swarmed you like a flock of gulls on a fish." Out of the corner of her eye Clara caught sight of the emerald and gold ring. "Will be by my side forever as my wife, Clara Crossley?"

Clara could scarcely breath as he fell to his knee and her eyes hadn't left his the entire time he spoke. After everything she couldn't believe he was still right in front of her. His face was still only familiar at best, she was so used to his mangled features, but...his eyes. She'd never forget his eyes. Her heart knew the rest of him even if her own eyes did not and that was all that mattered.

Not able to manage a word for a few seconds she nodded mutely over come before laughing. "Yes! Oh, yes. Ian..." She watched as he slipped the ring on her finger before wrapping her arms around his neck. He lifted her chuckling with her as he spun her around and kissed her deeply. Never before had he ever felt as happy as he did right then. He was human. He was home. But most of all he was in love and she was in love with him.

* * *

Epilogue

Thom, Sarah, Charlie, and Molly all welcomed a bouncing baby boy some months later. Charlie's skill already was proving that one day he would run Thom's bakery with his siblings if he chose it. Sarah and Hannah eventually built a small business of their own where they were able to hire other seamstresses so Sarah could look after her children as she wanted to. Hannah worked hard and became known for her fashionable designs. She had many a suitor chasing her heels, but the sensible girl waited out for the perfect one who could handle her and whom she could wrap around her finger.

Norah and Miles eventually adopted three children from the orphanage Clara had started. While Ian refused to take back any of his money, both still chose to work in Ian and Clara's home with their own family. They enjoyed their jobs and they instilled their hardworking ethic into the children they raised.

Clara's eventually heard that her stepmother remarried and that the man she had chosen had a large purse, but an even larger temper. The girls eventually escaped and settled into unhappy marriages, but their mother spent the rest of her days carrying out every chore she had bestowed upon Clara simply to appease her husband.

The prince...Clara rarely ever saw. She heard that he had arranged a marriage for himself shortly after Clara had left, but on his wedding day he disappeared. He never made it to the alter and no one could find him. Many in the town thought it was all just a hoax. Another attempt to make the town pity the royal family. But Clara wondered if the witch had gotten her revenge on the right person after all. And that never sat too well with her. For all the things Bran was and wasn't and all the things he had done, in his heart he had been a good man. And he deserved a happiness in his life.

* * *

"My wonderful wife...where have your thoughts sailed to?" Ian had found her in the gardens, sitting on the ground by her mother's rosebush, lost to the world in her thoughts.

Looking up a slow smile spread over her lips as he came over. She still couldn't believe it. He was her husband. And he was human. In the beginning she would catch herself staring at a face she was convinced was almost a stranger, but she knew his eyes. They were home to her heart. "Do you think Bran is..."

Settling down beside her, he wrapped arms strong from his time at sea hoisting sails, around her. "No. The witch wouldn't have killed him. She isn't dark hearted." There was something in his voice that sounded as if he knew the witch well. Tilting back her head Clara aimed him a quizzical look. "The in-between opened because she and Death were fighting over me. Someone who has an evil heart wouldn't have cared to argue with Death over minute details of my curse."

Leaning against him Clara closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his arms and the sun on her face. "Still. Where do you think he is?"

She felt him shrug before he rested his chin on her shoulder. His breath stirred her hair, tickling her cheek as he spoke his next words. "My guess is trying to find those coins." Pausing he kissed her shoulder as he thought. "I tried to pick up clues to their whereabouts when I sailed. I asked traders and merchants I passed if they had seen them."

"Did you?" Ian had talked at length about his voyages. He had loved every single second he had been at sea, but he had never mentioned this.

"Yes. No one knew what I was talking about." Tilting his head he nuzzled into her neck.

There was something in voice that had Clara opening her eyes. "Do you miss the sea, my love?"

Without hesitating he nodded against her skin. "I do."

Her heart twisted, but she kept her tone and face neutral. If he wanted to return she couldn't keep him from it. She loved him too much to hold him back from the life he wanted. Pulling away she looked up into his green eyes. She would miss him dearly, but he would come back to her. And she would be the first one on the docks to greet him when his ship arrived. "Do you want to be a sailor again?"

His eyes searched hers as a grin formed on his lips. "I thought you fired me. You were adamant I couldn't have my job back."

Clara shook her head, she should have seen that one coming. He had a knack for teasingly giving her a hard time. "And you can't if you still think I can't run your business just as well as you can."

Laughing now he tapped her nose teasingly. "Little bird, the moment you stepped foot on the ship you proved you can run it just as well as any man."

Grinning Clara gave in to the pull she always felt swelling her heart and kissed him. "But, really, Ian. Do you want to return to the sea? Do you want help your friend?"

He sat there for a few long moments simply regarding her. In truth he hadn't really thought about it. He had been too caught up in the fact that she was all his and that their lives were forever entwined now. But he couldn't deny the pull that he felt for the sea and for the lands beyond it. For too long he had been trapped in his home and in his self, that now he wanted to be free. "It's time for Bran to step up and face the consequences. I won't waste my life again for him." He hesitated as he looked down at her, searching her eyes for her thoughts. "I wouldn't mind going back out to sea though. Only if you came with me. The sea and the adventure it holds calls to me, but you, my darling, have an even greater hold on me." Leaning towards her he tenderly rested his forehead against hers. "I can break the ties I have with the sea, but I can't break the ties you have on me."

Clara had once dreamed of leaving this place. Of seeing new places. But it had never occurred to her before that she would ever be able to do such a thing. One thing or another had always tied her to the town, but now...the only tie she had was to Ian, as he was tied to her. Smiling, her hand found his and she entwined their fingers together. "When do we set sail?"

((And that's it. THANK YOU to everyone who has read, commented, alerted, and favorited. It is so amazing to me just how many of you there are! And it means the world to me to see all of it in the traffic status stuff and reading all of your comments. THANK YOU so so so much! I can't say it enough. :) If you are interested in reading about what happened to Bran I will be posting the first chapter of his story tomorrow. The story is called Water Lily. Depending on how it goes as I write it I may try and work in Clara and Ian updates. We'll see how it flows, haha. Definitely at the end of Water Lily you'll see a little more of what happens to them. So, if nothing else you can totally read just for that. lol Water Lily will be another fairy tale cross like The Rose Bush is. One of the fairy tales is the Frog Prince and the other I don't think I'm going to tell you quite yet. Hahaha. It would be too much of a spoiler I think. Feel free to guess if you read it though :) But, yes, thank you all so much again for reading! And I hope you all read and enjoy Water Lily :D ))


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